


9 | All yours

by ELC01



Series: It’s you [9]
Category: Harry Styles (Fandom), Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:41:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26129713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ELC01/pseuds/ELC01
Summary: With such a magnetic attraction, they could afford to wait for their perfect moment.So, when the time is right, Harry and Eloise finally get to embark on something magical together.Navigating their blossoming relationship through tours and a burgeoning new career, the hiatus and new directions, they experience all manner of highs and lows.They'll face revelations and illnesses, break ups and make ups, weddings and anniversaries. But whose?>Ninth in a series of interconnected select moments, exploring the developing relationship between Harry and Eloise.This ninth instalment takes place between September - December 2017, picking up right after all the events of the preceding chapters:'1 | Back to you (Prologue)'‘2 | You, again’‘3 | You & I’‘4 | You with me’'5 | You without me''6 | Back to you'‘7 | Adore you’‘8 | Only you’.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Original Female Character
Series: It’s you [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1528811
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Part A

**Author's Note:**

> Please note:
> 
> This is intended as an exercise in character development and descriptive writing. Any mistakes are my own.
> 
> Harry features heavily - because he's incredibly charismatic and so talented - but I feel a little out of my comfort zone writing RFC, so will be mindful to be as respectful as possible.
> 
> Disclaimer: I have no links to Harry or any of his associates. Rather, I am just borrowing him and them as familiar points of reference for not-for-profit artistic license.

18th September 2017

Melanie seems lovely, but even if she wasn't in a frumpy pencil skirt and patent heels, she's pushing fifty-something, and not quite in Eloise's shape.

As amusing as her waddling speed-walk is to behold, Eloise loses patience after less than a minute and shakes off the airport VIP escort as politely as possible. "Gate Seven, right? If I really run I think I could be in with a shot... I've got to try. Thanks so much for all your help, though".

"Oh, but what about the paperwork for your suitcase?", Melanie frowns at the prospect of not delivering her charge.

"I'll have to worry about that on the other side", she shrugs. "Can you call the gate and let them know I'm on my way? Please don't let them leave!".

After slinging the strap of her bulky leather tote bag over her head and adjusting it across her chest, with a skipping start she sets off, sprinting down the length of Terminal Five.

Light on her feet as she weaves, dodging the other passengers milling around, she's grateful she changed into her trusty Stan Smiths before checking her suitcase in Berlin. She'd probably break her neck attempting this pace in her heeled Saint Laurent ankle boots.

Filming night shoots in the German city all weekend, she'd wrapped just before dawn this morning and headed straight to the airport. An unanticipated delay on the tarmac has had her anxiously clock-watching ever since. She was always going to be cutting it a bit fine for her connecting flight at Heathrow, but this is ambitious, even for her.

Her boarding pass, clutched alongside her passport and phone in her hand, notes that the gate should have closed ten minutes ago. The departure board screens she flies past flash 'Gate closing', taunting her.

Fucking hell! How long is this sodding departure hall? She's panting hard and getting frustrated as the crowds thicken in the narrowing space as she approaches the gates.

Finally spotting a yellow sign for gate seven, she hurdles over a low table to get to the crew manning the gate that bit quicker. "I'm here, I'm here! Please, tell me I'm not too late", she calls desperately.

Proffering her boarding pass and passport, she dramatically folds over with her hands braced on her knees, desperately trying to catch her breath.

Quickly clocking her first class ticket, the younger uniformed man gasps. "Just! Literally less than a minute to spare; I'm impressed, I didn't think you had a hope in hell", he chuckles.

His kindly older colleague unlocks the door for her and adds sweetly, "You must have a lucky someone you're very eager to see at the other end?".

"You have no idea!", Eloise grins before dashing down the tunnel.

After clapping her in, a uniformed steward congratulates her as he gestures her to the left.

She's immediately conscious of her frantic energy disrupting the peaceful serenity of the first class cabin.

All the more so when, quickly spotting her, Anne and Gemma scramble to unfasten their seat belts and jump up to hug her, clapping and cheering as discretely as they can manage.

"No way!".

"Oh, you made it!".

After throwing her tote on her seat and tugging off her leather jacket, Eloise laughs as she embraces them tightly, still panting from her run. "I can't believe I did! Must have just set a new land speed record!".

"Ladies, please take your seats quickly. We're ready to depart", the steward asks politely, thoughtfully handing Eloise a bottle of water.

>

Collapsing in her plush seat across the aisle from them, alongside Lou, she takes stock.

The crew on her flight from Berlin and then Melanie had all told her that it would be impossible; that she'd never make it. She'd hazard a guess that was almost motivation enough, but with the promise of Harry waiting for her in San Francisco, she knows she'd move mountains to get to him.

When he headed to LA to start rehearsals a few weeks ago, and she then flitted back and forth across Europe filming, they had to endure a stint of long distance again.

They have both been so busy, but bursting with pride for one another. After everything they had gone through together in the summer, they've both made a really concerted effort. Despite the eight or nine hour time difference, they made a point of calling and messaging as much as possible, counting down the days until her trip.

Having ensured to pre-negotiate a break in filming to be able to fly to California this week, she was always going to be at the opening show of his first solo world tour. But, knowing from their calls that he'd been getting increasingly nervous and having a crisis of confidence, she knew to forego her usual surprise tactics and let him know exactly when she was due to arrive.

She hadn't had the heart to tell him about the delay in Berlin, and sags with relief at the realisation that had she been just a minute later, she'd be making a desperate, devastating phone call to him right now.

>

After take off, Eloise perches on the footstool opposite Gemma's seat, keen to catch up before the crew serve lunch.

She hasn't seen Anne for over a month and Gemma for a couple of weeks now, after a pub lunch together in London.

They marvel at her epic airport dash and admit they begged the crew to wait. Reassuring her they hadn't let Harry know about her worrisome delay, they'd been keen to avoid giving him anything else to worry about.

They lament her suitcase, no doubt languishing sadly on a baggage reclaim belt on the other side of the airport. She just hopes it will catch up with her before they leave San Francisco tomorrow night, but Gemma promises she can borrow anything she might need from hers.

They're keen to hear all about filming Killing Eve, and delight in flicking through the wardrobe selfies on her phone; she'd still been dutifully sending them to Harry, as promised.

When she starts yawning uncontrollably and admits she worked all night, they usher her back to her seat.

Reclined flat, and tucked under a light duvet with her noise cancelling headphones on, she's out like a light in mere minutes.

>

Eloise sleeps straight through for an impressive nine hours straight, only waking when Lou nudges her gently awake as they prepare for landing.

Once they finally clear the lengthy queues at passport control, Eloise files her lost luggage claim and leaves her hotel details as the others wait for their suitcases at the baggage carousel.

She tries calling Harry on both his phones, but has no luck, so shoots both him and Jeff a quick text. One notably cheekier than the other.

>

Approaching mid-afternoon, it's a glorious sunny day in San Francisco.

They snatch only a glimpse of the balmy warm weather between the terminal and their car, but the unanticipated paparazzi prove a little distracting.

Still feeling half asleep and thoroughly rumpled in her trainers, leggings, t-shirt, glasses and messy bun, Eloise dips her head, pastes on a smile and avoids their enthusiastic questioning.

It's big news that Harry chose San Francisco to kick-off his debut tour, and they've evidently been waiting, hoping, for a glimpse of her. So, needless to say, they're delighted to see her arriving with his family and one of his best friends.

Laughing amongst themselves at the absurdity of the attention even without him, they clamber into the big Cadillac Escalade and chatter excitedly for the thirty minute drive up Route 101; skirting the stunning bay and sparkling water as they head north into the city centre.

>

Cresting the sweeping climb up towards the majestic Grace Cathedral atop Nob Hill, they arrive at their destination. The vast light grey Masonic Auditorium sits directly opposite.

Through the blackened glass of their SUV, they're shocked, humbled and heart-warmed to see some of his ardent fans, camped out and queuing already. This time tomorrow they'll be wrapping around the block.

As they slow and turn into the underground parking lot, their car draws their frenzied excitement and camera flashes bounce unsuccessfully off the blackened glass.

Safely inside and away from their squeals, they climb out and immediately spot Adam. He's just wrapping up a call with his wife as he wanders around the parking lot.

After greeting them all with warm hugs, he takes Eloise's tote bag and slings an arm over her shoulders, and escorts them into the lofty auditorium.

>

After more enthusiastic greetings and hugs, Jeff gives them all-access passes and introduces them to key crew as they pass.

Harry is boxing with his trainer; dancing on his toes as he steps back and forth, raining jabs and uppercuts against the pads. Muscles rippling, he's sweaty and dishevelled. Drool.

Jeff and Adam elbow and nudge Eloise playfully as they head closer. She can't take her eyes off him.

Until a double take has her stopping in her tracks.

If he hadn't been bent over a trunk packed with guitars, she's not sure she'd have recognised him. Holy shit, his hair!

The last time she'd seen Mitch, after his almost month-long stay with them in Hampstead during tour rehearsals, his glorious locks had tumbled well past his shoulders. His hair is now cropped close to his head, and he's almost clean shaven. Has he always been quite so handsome?

She staggers towards him in shock and quickly gets swept up in his tight hug.

"A bloody travesty, right?", Sarah trills, as she skips over and makes their embrace a three-way.

Totally distracted catching up with them both, Eloise soon jumps at the low whine in her ear. "Hey! It's about me, not him".

She hadn't noticed Harry already greet the others, shed his boxing gloves and head towards them.

But she definitely does notice the tight press of his arms, wrapping around her from behind, pulling her back into his sweaty chest.

Melting against him as he looms over her, she can feel the width of his smile as he presses sloppy, open mouthed kisses down the back of her neck as she disentangles from Mitch and Sarah.

Dropping her hands to his forearms crossed low over her waist, she taps and squeezes until he loosens his grip, just enough for her to spin in his arms and throw hers over his broad shoulders.

"Hey! You finally got your own glasses", he grins. "They suit you, baby", he pecks her nose as he tugs her hair out of it's messy bun.

"What are you playing at, sparring with this?", she narrows her eyes, fingering the bandage on his right wrist.

Shrugging her off, he drops his hands cheekily to her bum, copping a quick feel before hoisting her up.

Rolling her eyes at his flippant display of strength, she wraps her legs high around his waist and folds down over him. One of her hands rakes up his jaw, angling his head up, the other tugs at his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

The cascading curtain of her hair offers them scant privacy as they get lost in a reunion kiss as he staggers in a circle to a backdrop of hoots and hollers from their surrounding loved ones.

He blindly lets her back down and she promptly throws her arms back around him again, delighting in their closeness as she perches on her tip toes to whisper in his ear how much she loves him and how much she's missed him.

Gemma eventually breaks them apart with a swift elbow to his ribs.

"Oww!", he whines.

"Ugh, you stink!", she sasses.

"Well, let me go and shower then", he gurns in a funny voice, enveloping her in a sweaty hug as she protests wildly, thumping at his back.

After letting her go, he walks backwards, grinning broadly at their funny little group - all his favourites. Spinning dramatically, he calls over his shoulder. "El? Baby, that was an invitation", he winks.

They all heckle and wolf whistle, only egged on as she blushes, mouth agape.

"Oh, newsflash!", he sasses, spinning back towards them with hands held aloft. "We have sex!". Shameless.

"Oh, my God, H! Shut it!", she hisses, unable to wipe the smile from her face, already stepping forward towards his outstretched hand.

"Make me", he shrugs with a smirk, wiggling his fingers invitingly.

With a skip and a pounce, she definitely does.

>

Giggling all the way, with his arm slung over her shoulder and their heads bent close whispering, they get stopped by almost everyone they pass on their way to his dressing room.

Once they finally make it, there's still a steady stream of guests and interruptions, with another knock at the door each time things hot up again.

Anyone would think they're doing it on purpose.

Jeff is first, with the schedule for tomorrow and an update that the lighting crew need another hour or so to make Harry's requested changes. Then Mitch, with a completely unnecessary question about guitar strings. And finally Lou, dropping off her kit.

But even she takes pity, and doesn't prattle on as long as she usually would.

>

When Eloise finally shuts the door behind her, Harry steps quickly up behind her and leans over, flicking the lock shut with a flourish.

Hearing her intake of breath, he spins her and cages her in his arms against the door as he eyes her hotly. "Fucking hell, I've missed you... Need you, so badly".

Her whine in agreement is all the invitation he needs to lean in and capture her lips in a hot kiss.

Panting for breath again she arches her neck up and smirks when his lips drop predictably to plant kisses along it. Smiling, she whispers in his ear, "Baby...?".

"Yeah?", he bites out against her long neck.

"...You really do stink", she smirks, creasing into laughter.

"Fucking cheek!", he scoffs in mock outrage, pulling back from her neck to level at her. Raising an eyebrow, he leans in, tauntingly. "Well, you're not exactly fresh as a daisy either... All plane-y and totally gross", he trills like a Valley Girl, wrinkling his nose. "Never fancied you less to be honest", he drops an octave or two to his natural husky drawl. However, the cheeky press of his growing bulge into her legging clad hips suggests otherwise.

With a laugh and another peppering of kisses over her face, he scoops her back up and prowls towards the tiny ensuite bathroom, eagerly pulling her t-shirt over her head.

>

It's barely big enough for one.

Reaching to adjust the flow of water cascading over them, Harry curses as he bangs an elbow into the shower door.

Pressed right up against his naked body, Eloise isn't complaining. Disappointed this can't amount to anything more in such a confined space, she giggles hopelessly, wriggling temptingly against him, intent on freshening them up as quickly as possible to spill back into the cramped bathroom and steam it up further.

As he struggles to pull the inward-folding shower door open, Harry presses even closer, hunching over her with an arm braced against the wall as he sniggers into her shoulder, broad frame shaking with glee.

"Fuck, I couldn't love you any more", she grins earnestly up at him, raking a hand through his sopping curls.

It's all it takes to re-ignite the flame.

He barrels backwards and tugs her with him, pivoting neatly to lift her on to the edge of the sink.

Tugging her knees apart, he steps close as he draws his hands up the length of her toned thighs. "God, you feel so good, baby... You look amazing".

Pushing him off momentarily, she wiggles, testing her weight on the sink.

Looking up at him, she shrugs and pulls him back, running her palms appreciatively down his toned chest and abs to reach down and grasp his straining length, bobbing up against his taut stomach.

He gasps as she swipes her thumb over his sensitive tip, trailing through the beads of pre-cum before her long fingers wrap around his length; silky soft skin juxtaposed with pronounced veins and ridges and engorged tissue. God, she's missed him so much. All of him.

"Don't tease, baby... I'm really not going to last", he groans.

It's her turn to gasp when his left hand ventures north to squeeze her breasts in turn. His right journeys south, thumb circling teasingly around her clit before his fingers trail down her lips to dip into her slick and wanting heat.

"Me neither", she twists to lave kisses at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

"No, but I'm really not", he grimaces, willing himself to calm down.

"Probably for the best... Not sure this sink is up to much", she smirks, hooking a leg around his hip to pull him in as she twists her wrist to line him up.

Sliding reverently in, to a harmony of long sighs, he bottoms out and they both still for a beat.

An unintentional clench of her internal walls has him grunting, dropping his head to her shoulder as he casts his eyes down to their joining, where his slick length retreats only to plunge straight back in again.

After just two hard strokes, he stutters to a stop, frowning as he rethinks their position. "Shit, I really don't want to have to explain a broken sink".

Running his hands back down her thighs to tug behind her knees, he spins her to face the mirror as soon as her feet touch the floor.

Dishevelled and disorientated, she finds his intense stare in the mirror as he runs one hand up her back to brace her forward over the basin. He nudges her feet further apart with his own as his right hand pumps his length before lining them up again.

Sliding back home to stuttering sighs and groans, his hands rove around to her front. One ventures north to palm at her boobs and pinch her nipples, the other heads south to rub furiously at her clit.

They manage only maybe fifteen more strokes - gliding, grinding and sliding - before she clenches again and can't let up, milking him as his hips stutter into hers. He sprawls down over her back to dig that bit deeper as he finds his release.

It's quick and raw - all frantic fumbling movements, sloppy kisses and panted curses - but exactly what they needed. Grounding, knowing, loving.

"Fucking hell, El!", he groans into her ear as he cranes his neck to press kisses to her lips.

"God, I love you, so much".

>

After another quick shower each, they catch up, still clad in towels, sprawled on the sofa in his dressing room.

He's excited.

Nervous excited.

Definitely nervous.

She gives him a pep talk.

>

Anne and Gemma soon swing by and are quick to echo the sentiment. All overflowing with excitement, pride and love.

They decide to head to the hotel to freshen up and go for a quick walk before dinner.

"I need to wait for the final look at the lighting, but should be done in an hour or two", he explains before lolling his head against the back of the sofa back towards Eloise. "Will you stay?", he asks softly, not quite ready to be separated from her again.

"Of course", she nods. "I've got nothing to wear anyway", she grimaces, looking around and noting she needs to find her bag to call the airline and check on the status of her suitcase.

"I can find you some bits, El, don't worry", Gemma promises.

>

Later, the fans - and there are already notably more than earlier - go wild when their final fleet of cars leaves the Auditorium parking lot.

Eloise ducks out of sight as Harry lowers the window to wave as they drive past.

They head just a few blocks down from the venue, to the grand colonnaded entrance of the Ritz-Carlton San Francisco.

It's already almost 8pm when they bustle into the hotel lobby so they head straight to the discrete back corner of the restaurant for their pre-tour dinner.

Harry, Eloise, Anne and Gemma. Jeff and Tommy. The band, plus Tom and Molly. Lou and Harry Lambert. Some of the key directors from the tour crew, and Harry's security too.

A rowdy bunch, they feast on sharing plates, easy chatter and ready laughter.

It's been a long time planning and rehearsing, but they're now as prepared and ready as they can possibly be. Excited, but daunted at the schedule of eighty odd shows ahead of them, and the more immediate prospect of the fans and critics eager to see what they've got.

There are toasts and thanks aplenty. To Harry. From Harry. For Harry.

Eloise catches Anne's eye as she looks up at him fondly. Their matching soppy, beaming smiles leave them both dabbing at the corner of their eyes with their napkins.

He catches them and slings an arm around each, pulling them close and dropping kisses to their temples, whispering how much he loves them and just how much it means to have them both here to share this with.

Emotions are definitely riding high.

>

With the girls fighting a losing battle to jet lag and a huge day ahead of them all tomorrow, they call it a night just after 10pm.

After Harry dismisses his security, they say goodbye to the last of the others as the lift doors close and they head up to the top floor alone.

He catches her yawn in the mirrored glass door and playfully pokes a finger into her mouth, making her laugh and bat his hand away tiredly.

Easily grasping her hand in his, he slings his other around her shoulder and tugs her into his side. "You're not too sleepy on me, are you?", he purrs lowly, tongue tracing up the shell of her ear to make her squirm.

As the lift doors ping and slide open, he bends to snag the straps of their bags and smoothly steps, pivots and bends to fold her over his other shoulder.

Laughing weakly she wriggles and slaps at his bum as he skips down the hallway.

It works like a charm, waking her up just enough.

Instructing her to fish for the key card in the front pocket of his tight black jeans, she's in fits of giggles as he wiggles his hips, intent on having her cop a feel.

>

Finally in their suite, he flips her on to the plush super king bed.

She scrambles to get up whilst he's distracted by locking the door, sorting the lights and stripping off.

Having quickly explored the vast suite and huge marble bathroom, she stills, kneeling on a chaise longue as she pulls the heavy navy curtain aside to take in the view of the lit up cable cars cresting down California Street below them, towards the bay.

Feeling Harry step close behind her and drop a hand to her hip, she whispers, "It's gorgeous".

"Mmm hmm", he hums, hooking his chin over her shoulder, raking his hands up her side, over her slim hourglass curves, smoothly tugging her t-shirt up. "It really is".

She twists to find him already stripped to his boxers. "I figure I have a pretty good imagination...", she says lowly, tracing a finger down his chest towards the waistband of his boxers. "But the real thing is always just so, so much better".

It's his turn to swat her playful hands away; scooping them up in his, he tugs her back over to the bed.

As pretty a city as it is, it's safe to say neither of them is really referring to San Francisco right now.

Intent on a proper reunion, they make it way past fifteen strokes this time, but shift from lusty and lascivious to loving and languid as she starts to slowly but surely succumb to jet lag.

They have all week, after all.


	2. Part B

19th September 2017

Disorientated to wake up in yet another unfamiliar hotel bed, Eloise squints as she shifts to face away from the soft sunlight streaming though the edge of the curtain.

For just a split second, she'd forgotten about Harry. Well, about yesterday at least.

But as she peeks an eye open she can't help but beam brightly at seeing him smiling softly down at her. The shaft of light catches his face and gives his eyes that brilliantly clear, pistachio green look. They twinkle playfully as she comes to.

Despite her jet lag, he'd awoken first, but watching her sleep had proved just the tonic to help soothe and quieten his mind a bit, already nervous and jittery for tonight.

She lays on her stomach with one arm and leg bent up as if she was reaching towards him in her sleep. With her other arm hooked under her pillow, she burrows deeper as he reaches a gentle hand to her shoulder to drape her hair over her back.

It's as if his fingers become magnets; once he's touched her, he can't quite seem to prise them away. They drift to her lower back, exposed with the sheet bunched at her hips, and trail slowly like a whisper up the groove of her spine.

Squirming at his teasing touch, she lets out a pathetic mewl and lays a hand to her neck, which had been twisted awkwardly.

His hand glides up to swat hers away, strong fingers massaging gently.

As her hips start writhing under his attention, he chuckles and she nudges him off before she gets too distracted. Shifting on to her right side to face him, she unwittingly blocks his view of her chest with her left arm as she tucks her hand under her pillow.

Misreading his frown, she reaches her other to his forearm, raking her nails lightly up the sensitive underside, swirling patterns as she writes secret letters against his skin. He shivers more than once at the gently grounding attention.

"What are you awake so early for?", she whispers. "You've got your thinking face on". The crease between his eyebrows is always a dead giveaway.

"Hmm, just how pretty you are", he grins soppily, leaning down to nuzzle a kiss to her open palm.

She rolls her eyes playfully at his predictable response. "Nice try... No, really?".

Giving in when she levels his squinty look right back at him, he admits lowly, "Well, I guess I am also thinking about tonight...".

Rolling on to his back he huffs a deep breath through his nose. She shifts closer and intertwines their hands, which he pulls to his lips again for a distracted kiss, before dropping them to his chest, still holding tight.

The steady thump of his heart is as grounding and reassuring as ever. He's here. He's hers.

She rubs his thumb in encouragement, silently willing him to open up.

Lolling his head on the pillow towards her he sighs again before looking back to trace the elaborate ceiling mouldings.

"It's just me... It's all on me", he admits quietly, "I'm definitely feeling the pressure". Once he's started talking, he can't seem to stop, and soon gets on to hypotheticals.

"What if I can't command the stage enough and the fans get bored?".

"Impossible, you're a true showman and born frontman if ever I've seen one. They'll be beside themselves with excitement. They already love you, H!".

"Well, what if my wrist doesn't hold up?". He flexes it gently.

"Well, then you'll put your guitar down and focus on singing, and I guess Tom would step in and play all your parts instead?".

"What if a guitar string snaps?".

"Then that guy who works into him will come and sort you out whilst you effortlessly charm the crowd, I imagine. What's his name again?".

"Alex?".

"Alex will have your back. It's his job - literally what you pay him for!". She manages to pull a soft smile from him.

After a pause, she thinks he's done, until he rolls towards her. Kissing the back of her hand again, he mumbles quietly around her fingers, "What if the critics roast me?".

"Sing your heart out for your fans and what could they possibly have to say? You're amazing, your band's amazing, your fans are amazing. Just focus on giving them the show they've been waiting for".

Seeing his still furrowed brow, she lifts her other hand to cord through his hair and launches into a pep talk. It's ego boosting time.

He's mostly just distracted by her tits, but, either way, it seems to soothe him somewhat.

>

Later that morning, as Harry stuffs the last of his things into his bags, Eloise sits lounging against the headboard, still on hold with the airline.

Despite her first class ticket and his name on the booking - he with the Black AMEX and millions of Air Miles - they're not terribly helpful.

They confirm her suitcase arrived in San Francisco early this morning, but can't work out if it's already been dispatched to her. After countless attempts, she gives up trying to explain that they're about to check out and she needs to give them another address. She'll just have to leave her number with the concierge downstairs in case it shows up after they leave for the venue.

Gemma knocks at their door on her way down to breakfast, arms bundled with some spare clothes for her.

Accepting them gratefully and promising they'll be down in a few minutes, Eloise heads straight to the bed and rummages through the goodies.

Eyeing the pale blue sports bra with relief, she slips her arms out of the dressing gown and sets about shimmying it on.

After a bit of a struggle, she manages, but holy shit, it's tight. She can barely breathe and it's compressing her boobs painfully. After some mild contortion and fairly major cursing trying to get it off, panic sets in and she has to beg Harry for help.

Seeing her with one arm stuck above her head at a painful angle and one tit free, he creases into laughter but finally steps up and starts tugging. "Help, please! Shut up, I just need to get out, arghh".

Having hurled it back across the bed, she sucks in deep breaths and cups her boobs tenderly. With Harry still laughing, very much at her, she pouts. "Alright, alright, so you'll never find me sexy again... But who knew Gem had such deceptively small tits?".

Reaching for the black smock t-shirt dress, she wouldn't normally choose to go braless in it, and it will sit a bit high on her thighs, but it'll have to do.

Eyeing the underwear sceptically, she hesitates. "I just don't know if can wear your sister's knickers...", she looks up at him. "Is that weird? It's weird, right?".

"It's weird that you're talking to me about my sister's boobs and underwear, to be honest", Harry frowns, tugging at his lip. "But maybe weirder still to wear her clothes without anything underneath?".

"Oh, God, you're right! Well I can't wear mine for a third day, that's totally gross".

"Go commando", he shrugs. "It'll give me something to think about all morning", he adds, smirking lasciviously.

"You sure about that?", she raises an eyebrow at him. Dropping her dressing gown, she tugs the short dress on, totally bare underneath. Spinning for good measure, he gasps when she flashes everything.

"Oh, hell no!". He rummages in his bag again and pulls out a pair of boxers. He gives them a cursory sniff before shrugging and tossing them at her.

She squeals and steps out the way, watching them sail past and land on the floor behind her. "For fuck's sake, they better be clean", she grumbles, scooping them up sceptically.

"Of course they are, I'm not an animal!".

She raises an eyebrow again as she steps into the grey Calvin Klein boxer briefs and tugs them up. Turning to the mirror, she lifts her dress up and promptly bursts out laughing. Her wider hips stretch them out a bit, but she smirks, tugging at where they're still notably baggy in the front before grabbing her crotch and grunting.

Stepping closer and swatting her hand away, he tugs the dress higher around her waist and stares unabashedly. "Fuck, why does that look so hot? Is that weird?".

"Yes... But come on, weirdo, I'm starving".

>

His wandering hands dip under her dress the whole way downstairs, keen for another peek. Pinching at her nipples too, he tries in vain to distract her from guarding her hemline.

As the lift dings at the mezzanine level above the lobby, she swats his hands away again before stepping into him and dropping her hand to the crotch of his jeans. "One more fucking time and your boxers will be baggy too", she warns with a squeeze of his semi.

"Okay, okay, sorry!", he relents with a squeal.

As they reach the ground floor, she bends to grab for her bag as he reaches out in a surprise attack, tweaking her nipple with one hand and pinching her bum with the other.

"Argh, Harry!", she scolds, snapping back upright just as the doors open. Her shout pulls the others' attention from across the lobby.

He grabs their bags and side-steps around her, unable to wipe the grin from his face as he heads to the others. With her arms crossed tightly across her chest she heads instead to speak to the concierge about her suitcase.

"She's wearing my boxers", he blurts awkwardly as soon as she heads back to their little mob, creasing into immature giggles again.

She swats a hand at his abs and gapes at him. "Seriously?!".

"Hey! What was wrong with mine?", Gemma sasses.

"Sorry! I overthought it. Then he made it weird", Eloise grimaces, "But thanks again for lending me some stuff, you're a lifesaver".

"He makes everything weird", Gemma rolls her eyes. "Come on, let's eat, then hit the shops".

>

Enjoying the midday sunshine, they walk the twenty minutes back to the Auditorium, sipping iced coffees and chatting about everything and nothing.

Not confident her suitcase would arrive in time for tonight, and then heading straight to LA, Eloise had dragged Gemma to the nearby Neiman Marcus.

She may have gone a little wild in the aisles. In just over an hour, like a veritable whirlwind, she'd hit the lingerie department, found the perfect pair of Paige black denim shorts, picked up a cute tasseled boho cream blouse with black embroidery, nabbed some simple silver flats, and even snapped up a cute white Zimmerman dress on sale.

Having changed in the toilets, she's feeling like a new woman and suitably smug. Gemma's impressed, if not a little intimidated.

But, confronted with the much longer queue of fans outside the Auditorium, already snaking halfway down the block, they soon switch roles.

As Eloise takes a deep breath, Gemma grasps her hand tightly and confidently heads straight for the main door.

The fans quickly spot them and start cheering, shouting their names and snapping photos, but they're harmless.

Bundling past the security guard, they skip down the aisle, laughing in relief. Spotting Harry by the sound desk, Eloise pounces playfully straight into his arms before giving him a twirl of her new outfit and a cheeky peek down her blouse at her cute new bra.

Jeff smoothly steers away Brittany, the journalist from Rolling Stone, here to write a piece on his debut concert. Oops.

>

They all hang out with Harry's full team as they review the amends to the timings of the visuals and light show.

As the technical director scrambles to make the final tweaks and finesse a few transitions, Harry catches Eloise peering around the ornate venue curiously, taking in its concentric circles, wooden timbers and red upholstery.

"3,200 capacity... It's tiny, really", he answers her unasked question lowly.

She nudges him playfully, "I think you're biased, Mr. San Siro... It's a beautiful venue, perfect really".

"Johannesburg was actually the biggest we played. 131,000".

She raises her eyebrows. Okay, that's insane. "But just think how much more intimate this will be", she reasons quickly. "You'll get to see and feel how your fans react".

He gulps, "Fuck, I hope they like it". Getting quiet and a bit overwhelmed, she can sense him turning inward.

"They'll love it". She's adamant. How could they not?

When the faulty fire alarm goes off again and interrupts preparations for the first sound check, he starts losing it a bit. "Oh, for fuck's sake!", he calls out in frustration, jumping up and heading towards Jeff.

>

Eloise sneaks off, returning minutes later to interrupt his pacing as she drops sunglasses, a cap and a zip up hoodie on Harry as he just eyes her curiously, wordlessly.

Plucking his phones from his hand, she passes them to Jeff. "Call me when they're ready for him?". With that, she grabs his hand, nods to his security guard and drags him out towards a side exit from the car park, away from the growing queue of fans.

They sneak stealthily out and she leads him over the road to the steps of the Grace Cathedral, instructing him to wait whilst she ducks into a fro-yo store a few doors down.

As she returns, clasping three cups with a variety of toppings, she looks at him with an indulgent smile. "It's not much of a break if you sit and stare at it", she scoffs, talking around the wooden spoon in her mouth and wiggling the fingers of her free hand at him.

She finds them a better spot, on a bench by the fountain in Huntington Park, just opposite. After she passes a cup of frozen yoghurt to his security guard, loitering nearby, they sit trading spoonfuls and chaste kisses. Well, relatively chaste, in the shadow of a Cathedral and all.

As he gets some fresh air and soaks up the sun, she can literally see some of the tension melt off as his hunched shoulders drop away from his ears.

Tracing her kneecap distractedly, he looks back up at her as a dimpled grin stretches over his face. "This, and you, are exactly what I needed... Thank you, baby", he drops his forehead to hers and pecks a final kiss to her lips, delighting in the zing of the fresh kiwi on her lips.

"Anytime", she grins. Reaching to tug her phone from the pocket of her shorts to check Jeff's text, she adds, "But good... It's time to go. They're ready for you".

They go the long way around the block to avoid the fans and she leaps for joy spotting a member of staff from the hotel dropping her suitcase off. Talk about five star service, even after they'd checked out.

>

Eloise, Anne, Gemma and Lou watch the final soundcheck from the front row; clapping, singing and dancing wildly, they do their best to give Harry a boost of confidence.

It's a close knit crew today. No hangers-on or pre-meets. Not tonight.

All his closest friends knew not to add any pressure for the first show. And anyone else who asked was politely turned down.

But, as a result, he fields plenty of good luck calls and messages instead. His Dad - who's flying in for the New York show next week - Ben and James, the boys, Paul... There had been so many more he'd guiltily handed his personal phone to Eloise and his work phone to Jeff, just too busy to accept them all.

>

Feeling good after soundcheck, when Eloise does her best to pass on all the goodwill messages, Harry introduces her to some new faces.

There's Helene, his tour photographer. She's in black denim shorts too, and whilst Eloise is a towering nine inches taller than her tiny petite frame, with their blonde hair and fine features, they look a little similar.

Harry takes a photo of them with Lou and uploads it to his private Instagram, captioning it 'Three blondes walked into a bar...'. Always the joker.

Eloise blanches when he introduces her properly to Brittany from Rolling Stone. He laughs at her panicked expression and sets her at ease, "Britt's totally chill. And she's not allowed to write about us", he winks.

As they tuck into an early dinner, Harry introduces Eloise to the girls of Muna, his even more nervous opening act.

>

After, there's an obligatory few games of ping pong. It culminates in Harry thrashing Eloise. She lets him. 

Actually, he totally thrashes her; but if anyone asks, she let him, okay?

Then, with just two hours to curtain up, it suddenly becomes a hive of activity as everyone starts getting ready.

Back in his private dressing room, Eloise rummages in her suitcase for her originally intended outfit.

Whilst he's distracted, catching up on yet more messages on his phones, she casually asks if he'd prefer a good luck blow job or a congratulations blow job. Immediately stopping his scrolling, he whips his head up so fast, she's impressed he doesn't give himself whiplash.

"Hmm... Can this be a 'buy one get one free' deal?", he asks optimistically, blatantly checking her out as she strips off to change. "It's awfully tempting, but I probably shouldn't cheat the audience out of all my energy", he sighs.

"Later it is, then", she grins, stepping close to pull him in for a hot and half naked kiss to tide him over.

"What a tease!", he grins.

"Who me?!", she gapes in faux innocence.

Holding her top to her chest, she pulls her hair over her shoulder and twists, batting her lashes as he steps up to attend to the fiddly buttons running up her spine.

Dropping a kiss to her shoulder, he then spins her back around and looks her up and down. "I reckon I'll be able to spot you in the front row in this", he fingers the crisp white silk appreciatively.

"Ya think?", she grins playfully.

Smiling at her thoughtfulness, always one step ahead, the sweet look in his eyes shifts to something naughtier in a flash as he pulls her top taut against her breasts to see the pattern of the delicate pale blue lace bra she bought earlier. "Nice", he smirks.

Taking her by surprise again, he bends his knees and drops his head to bite gently at her nipple through the thin material of her top and bra, making her gasp.

Hearing a knock, he quickly pops back up with a satisfied smirk. Before heading to unlock the door, he makes a point of first raking his eyes downward as his lips pull into a smug Cheshire cat grin.

Confused, she looks down to see one pebbled, needy nipple straining the fabric and claps a hand over her chest, just as Lou walks in.

"Now who's the tease!", she hisses.

"Who me?!", he parrots back in falsetto before dropping to a throaty chuckle.

>

Anne, Gemma and Jeff soon join them and spread out around the sofas, watching as Lou tends to Harry's hair and Harry Lambert steams all the bespoke Gucci outfits lining the hanging rail in the corner.

It's relaxed and lighthearted, and their chatter doesn't let up for a minute. The sense of nervous excitement grips them all; the energy palpable.

Soon Adam, Mitch, Sarah and Claire filter in to hang out as they collect their clothes.

Entirely unselfconscious - about nudity at least - Harry wouldn't bat an eyelid in stripping down to his boxers and changing in front of everyone, but it's Anne who suggests they all give him some privacy and a moment to himself.

He grabs Eloise's hand as she stands to head for the door, tugging her back wordlessly with a soft smile and a shake of his head.

She acts as wardrobe assistant. As he dons each layer, like a floral armour, he gets his head more and more in gear. An intriguing balance of amping himself up and centring himself at the same time, Eloise finds it fascinating to behold.

Fiddling with the pouch at his waist housing the battery and receiver for his in-ears, her smaller hands sneak under his silk shirt, trying to situate the wires and have them lay flat as he wiggles to ensure he has full range of movement.

After snapping some photos on his phone to send to Alessandro and post on Instagram later, Harry Lambert gives a final satisfied nod of approval and slips from the private dressing room back into the bigger room next door.

Silently, Harry wraps Eloise tightly in his arms. Conscious to avoid wrinkling his suit, she has to resist the urge to run her hands soothingly up and down his back. After a few deep breaths he drops a kiss to her forehead, and keeps his smiling lips pressed there.

"Ready?", she whispers with a squeeze to his waist.

Another deep breath and a final kiss. "As I'll ever be... Come on then".

>

Emerging next door, hand in hand, they're met with a cheer and the pop of a champagne cork.

As they all coo over him, Jeff hurriedly fills and hands around glasses for a toast.

Helping pass them around, mindful of his suit, Harry declines one for himself, "Not yet". But everyone else, including the band, won't turn it down.

As they step into a loose circle for a huddle, they all jump at the bleating wail as the fire alarm sets off again.

"Oh, fuck it!", Harry shouts with a nervous laugh. Grabbing the spare glass of champagne from Jeff's hand, he raises it momentarily to the others before knocking it back and downing it in one.

>

After a little pandemonium, and genuine panic when a cancellation order from the Fire Department is mooted, the alarm finally stops sounding and they get the green light.

Heading to the side of stage, in a final flurry of hugs and kisses, they all peel off and leave Harry and the band to it. Anne and Eloise, arm in arm, are last to leave him, and look over their shoulders as they're ushered down the hallway to make it out into the auditorium in time.

Eloise catches his eye before she turns the corner and blows him a final kiss good luck. He makes a play of catching it and spins around, sliding it in his back pocket.

After their huddle, Harry holds the band back, counting in his head the fifty four seconds it takes to get from backstage to the VIP pit in the front row. He'd counted it out earlier and didn't want to rush them.

Then, with a final tight hug from Mitch, they each carefully pick their way on to the stage in the dark, veiled behind the thin curtain.

>

Still catching their breath, Anne stands between Eloise and Gemma, gripping hands as they all stare unblinkingly up at the stage. Lou, Jeff and Harry Lambert are all in much the same state alongside them on the other side of Eloise.

The anticipation is almost too much to bear; the fevered pitch of the screaming fans certainly suggests so.

They all gasp as the opening solo guitar chords of the looped intro to Ever Since New York flood the darkened auditorium, before a single spotlight flares to pick out the silhouette of Harry and his guitar against a projection of the pink milky water from the album cover.

The auditorium, relatively small as it may be, roars to life and swells impossibly louder as the curtain drops to reveal Harry and the band as he kicks into the first verse.

The frenzied crowd sing every word back at him. The acoustics are unbelievable; it sounds more like the mighty San Siro stadium than an intimately sized venue.

They can't take their eyes off him as the look of disbelief on his face melts into unabashed joy.

As Tom and the sound engineers hastily up the levels to ensure they'll be heard over the crowd, Eloise sees Harry wince at some mic feedback halfway through the second verse, looking anxiously over to the sound booth.

Progressively finding his groove as he works through his nerves, he follows the opener up with Two Ghosts and Carolina, before launching into a reworking of Stockholm Syndrome, to the crowd's delight. It sends a clear message that he carries no shame of his formative years; he's immensely proud of everything they accomplished with the band.

As he swaps his guitar again and launches into Sweet Creature, his eyes keep returning to the front row. To Gemma, who inspired it, and Anne and Eloise too, to whom every world also rings true. God, he's lucky.

Shedding his suit jacket, Harry gulps some water and swaps guitars again during the choral opening to Only Angel. With eyes locked firmly on Eloise, he ups the ante and jumps into the first verse with gusto.

Finally, if the raucous dance moves are anything to go by, he appears to have shed his nerves, hit his stride and totally loosened up. Now he's having some fun.

The rockstar swagger - all feisty strutting, gyrating, thrusting and flag wielding - only continues with Woman before he softens things up a bit again for Meet Me in the Hallway.

Slipping in some more covers to pad out the set list from just his ten album tracks, the crowd rapturously receive Just a Little Bit of Your Heart and What Makes You Beautiful.

When he counts it in and jumps straight into the frenzy of Kiwi, they can see the delight on Harry's face that it's received even more rapturously than the band's breakthrough hit.

It says a lot, and it means even more.

Returning on stage with his jacket back on, to wind down towards the end of the set, Harry and Mitch play From the Dining Table acoustically.

It's only when he steps back up to his mic and greets the crowd that Eloise realises he hadn't yet addressed them. Given One Direction shows sometimes felt more like Harry's stand-up comedy routine with a few intermittent songs thrown in, that she hadn't noticed proves just how captivating the performance has been so far, fluidly transitioning between songs.

He thanks the fans and introduces the band, praising Mitch's contribution to making the album everything it is, before launching into a barn-storming cover of The Chain.

For the suitably epic and anthemic finale, Sign of the Times, he has the house lights raised to be able to see the crowd.

Addressing them again, openly and honestly, he tells them how excited he's been for tonight and how they've made it the perfect first night of the tour. When he professes he'll love them forever and thanks them for all their support so far, how it's truly touched him and genuinely changed he's life, Eloise, and the three thousand plus other people in the room, know the sentiment is entirely genuine. He wears his heart on his sleeve and has the tattoo to prove it. Two, technically.

As stirring and triumphant as its lilting melody, Sign of the Times positively brings the house down. Radiantly sharing the spotlight with his fans, Harry gazes out in wonder as he shares this incredibly special moment with everyone in the room. His modest charm and undeniable presence juxtapose with oozing charisma and sheer talent, making him somehow seem delightfully approachable yet entirely enigmatic.

Having nailed the run, when his eyes land back on Eloise, his mum and sister in the front row, the look of pride and joy on their teary faces is something he'll never forget. It unexpectedly chokes him, and, too moved to sing the refrain for himself, he extends his mic to the crowd instead.

And then it's done. Blowing kisses, he bows out with a final "Thank you. I love you. Treat people with kindness".

Ordinarily, he would sprint off as the band still plays the outro, trying to escape the venue before the fans, but, for tonight only, he's the last to leave the stage. Taking stock, he soaks it all up and looks directly into as many smiling, cheering faces as he can.

>

Similarly, his biggest fans - front and centre - get to enjoy the entirety of his final song for once, and also linger afterwards, watching him take it all in. It's a really special moment, and one they'll never forget, so thrilled to see him back on stage where he belongs, commanding a crowd.

When they're finally escorted back stage, surrounded by a flock of stewards and security guards, they return to the dressing room and find Harry and the band as they left them; wrapped up in a huddle. Although this one is far more relaxed and triumphant.

Hearing their cheer, they break apart and Harry rushes over, swooping the rest of them into another mass hug.

As they all peel off, he pulls Eloise firmly into his arms for a teary, passionate kiss as she murmurs against his lips just how proud she is and how much she loves him.

He's absolutely buzzing, pumped on adrenaline and chattering a mile a minute. They all get swept up in his excitement and champagne corks soon pop again.

>

When Jeff calls out that the cars have the green light to leave in fifteen minutes, they all jump into action, grabbing changes of clothes, sorting their belongings and stashing things back in the tour trunks, ready for the crew to pack up.

There's a final flurry of hugs as they split into separate cars in the private parking lot.

Harry, Eloise, Anne, Gemma, Jeff, Lou and Harry Lambert split into cars for the airport to take the Azoff's jet straight back to LA.

The band, Tom, Molly and Helene will pour over footage in the tour bus, to agree any tweaks needed for tomorrow night, then crash in their bunks for the rest of the six hour drive back to LA.

>

Arriving back home in the Hollywood Hills just after 2am, the adrenaline has tapered off and they head straight upstairs.

Harry pulls Eloise into the crook of his arm as they collapse into their bed, tangled in each others arms.

Just as they had first thing this morning, she entwines their fingers on his chest as they talk softly.

Lolling her head to look at him, she whispers, "One down..." with a grin.

"...Just eighty eight to go", he grins. "God, I want to do that till I'm eighty!", he adds with an elated, disbelieving chuckle.

"Then you will", she says simply with a beaming smile.

"And I'll be cheering you on from my Zimmer frame in the front row, tits flapping over my shoulders as I jump around when you rock out to Kiwi!", she adds with a snort, making him burst out laughing.

"Surely not! Not these tits", he rolls on top of her and drops his head down. "Let me check...".

"You're a tit!", she grins biting her lip as she drops a hand to the back of his head. "And, hey, don't forget I owe you that blow job. Congratulations are definitely in order!".

He pops his head briefly back up. "Oh, I'll be collecting that tomorrow, with interest", he smirks.

"It's already tomorrow", she winks.

Game on.


	3. Part C

20th September 2017

After well deserved lie-ins, they finally drag themselves out of bed to get ready to head out to brunch.

Harry corners Eloise in their walk-in closet, making her jump. "Baaaabe, please come with me?", he whines in her ear, pawing at her towel-clad hips as she rummages through her underwear drawer.

"Oh, come on, it's my week off!", she tries to wiggle out of his hold, but he just redoubles his efforts and wraps his arms tightly around her, hooking his chin over her shoulder cutely.

"Please! I'm feeling needy. I don't want to go alone, but really need to burn off some energy". Flexing his hips into hers, he adds cheekily, "The alternative has you not being able to walk later, believe me".

He laughs as she cocks her head. Hmm, interesting.

>

Tempting as his proposition was, she always struggles to deny him. So after they dropped Anne, Gemma and Lou at a table outside the Beachwood Café, he kept an unnecessarily firm grip on her hand and dragged her the few doors down to SoulCycle, ducking in just before the class started.

They emerge an hour later, red faced and sweating, staggering back to the cafe a little bow legged, much to the others' amusement.

"Fucking hell, that was torture!", Eloise groans dramatically.

"And the actress takes the stage...", Harry admonishes bravely.

Turning to swat at him, she gesticulates wildly as she continues ranting. "Why couldn't we just go for a run? Oh, my God, my temperature must be about 45 degrees. I've never sweated so much in my life! Ugh, I feel gross...". Finally, levelling him with a squinty look, she sasses, "I hate you a little bit right now".

Gemma belatedly points out the paparazzo across the street. "Oh, well that's just perfect...", she grumbles, collapsing quickly out of sight into a chair.

"Are you done?!", he tuts and tosses over a menu, which she quickly snaps up and starts fanning herself with.

>

Sipping green juices and coffees over emptied plates, they chat about their plans for later.

As Eloise pulls her phone out the side pocket of her leggings to fire off some texts to update Mer and Rosie, she realises the battery is totally flat.

She must have forgotten to charge it when they got in late last night.

He was pretty distracting.

>

After running a few errands, they go again.

His second show is at The Greek - an open air amphitheatre, built into a canyon in LA's Griffith Park.

Arriving just before 3pm after the thirty minute drive, with Anne, Gemma and Lou in tow, Harry grabs Eloise's hand and they step straight out on to the stage.

Looking up at the tiered seating carved into the dense trees of the canyon looming above them, Jeff sidles up and clears his throat, looking between them awkwardly. "You good?".

"Yeah, man!", Harry grins, still distractedly looking around as he steps in a circle. "This place is amazing".

"Yeah, it is". He clears his throat again, "Umm...".

Harry spins around, eyeing him curiously, "What?".

"Oh, man...", Jeff sighs, rubbing his neck. "Haven't you seen it?", he asks quietly, trying to subtly pull Harry away. "I figured you would have already...".

Eloise overhears. "Shit, were we papped earlier? I was hangry and being a little overdramatic, I admit... I'm sorry", she grimaces sheepishly at them both.

She tugs her phone out the pocket of her denim shorts, but it's still dead. Fuck, she really needs to find a charger.

"Well, yeah, it was brunch... But not this morning", Jeff frowns.

He swipes at his own phone and winces as he passes it over to Harry.

The atmosphere around them chills a few degrees as everyone else gets awkwardly quiet as if wishing they weren't there, but unable to look away.

Eloise sidles close, planting her hand on Harry's forearm as she peers closer.

Zooming in on the photos in the TMZ article, he squints, then tosses his head back laughing.

There are photos from this morning; both red faced, with her scowling and gesturing with her hands, it looks like they're arguing. Oops.

But the bigger photo gets her attention and has her grabbing the phone off him. "Is this actually for real?", she gapes at Jeff.

"Incest is a bit problematic for my image, babe...", Harry guffaws.

"Wait, what?". Jeff is totally confused by their mixed reactions.

Eloise struggles to see the funny side of it for a moment. "Seriously, can I not even go out with my family to our local pub without my name getting raked through the mud?". She keeps reading, "Oh, no fucking way! They're implying I was flirting with my brothers, and, oh God, with my dad too?", she looks back up in disbelief. "Shit, I don't know whether to laugh or cry".

Clocking Harry, who's crying with laughter, she feels a tug at the corner of her lips. "I mean, is there no such thing as journalistic integrity any more?", she grumbles, swatting him in the stomach.

"Can I...?", she points at Jeff's phone. At his relaxed nod, jumps on Google.

"Wow, okay, so the British tabloids are doing me a favour for once and are actually already annihilating TMZ over this".

"See, no problem! All cleared up then", Harry drops a kiss to her forehead and heads over to the band, still chuckling.

She looks up and around worriedly. "Well, let's just hope five thousand or so fans get the memo before tonight, hey?", she grumbles quietly to Jeff, handing his phone back.

"So, umm, they're your brothers?", he asks awkwardly, looking at the picture again in a totally different light.

"Yeah. Ollie, Lucas, Dad", she points them out.

"Sorry, for... umm-".

"It's okay...", she sighs.

"I guess I couldn't see past the risk of a 'jealous H' meltdown before tonight", he tries to explain, rubbing his neck sheepishly.

"I get it, don't worry about it", she pats his shoulder.

"Are we alright? I really am sorry".

"Don't fret, Jeff", she smiles warmly.

>

As soundcheck wraps up, Eloise sits with Gemma and Anne at the front of the top tier of seating. At their urging, she's venting about the media and getting it out her system.

"It just feels like they're out to get me and I'm not sure what I've done to provoke it".

"The mystery of you combined with him is like clickbait for his fans", Gemma reasons. "So the media will keep pushing it to sell papers and magazines and rake in advertising money. That's all it boils down to".

"We've seen people really struggle with this", Anne reassures. "Hell, he still struggles with this. You have to find a way to not take it to heart".

"I really try not to, but I hate that they have the power to tarnish things", Eloise tries to explain. "My memory of that rare, lovely long lunch in the sun with my dad and brothers is now wrapped up with ridiculous accusations of incest, of all things". She shakes her head in disbelief.

"I know he preaches 'never complain, never explain', and I totally understand that, I do. I don't want to justify it with a response - and the British tabloids have done that for me already this time, I guess... I get that it's a fine line, but when do I get to defend myself? Ugh...", she blows out a huff, trying to shake it off.

Gemma gives her a nudge. "I'll happily set the record straight for you about anything, any time, just give me the nod, okay? And mum can be your secret weapon too. One scathing 'I'm disappointed, please be more thoughtful' message from her has been known to make grown men cry - you'll never guess which one", she grins.

Eloise looks past Gemma to Anne and back. "God, you two are the bloody best. I love you". When she twists to lean over and envelope both in a hug, she spots something, someone, that has her doing a double take. "Ooh, look, they're here!".

>

With a squeal, she jumps up and jogs down the steps towards the front of the stage.

Harry has spotted her too and is in the process of jumping down as they race to rush over first.

He gets to the pushchair as Eloise wraps Rosie in a tight embrace. She hasn't seen her in person since before she gave birth, and a long hug from one of her best friends is exactly what she needs right now.

Hearing Harry's babbling, she breaks apart from her and holds her at arms length. "Oh, look at you, you superwoman you, and you look bloody amazing!". Grinning, she tries elbowing Harry out the way to lean over the pushchair to get a look at Jack. "Wow, he's grown so much already!". She's seen him plenty on FaceTime, but he's already a few months old now and no longer a diddy newborn.

"Ooh, can I? Can I?!", she begs Rosie excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

By the time Anne and Gemma have walked down all the steps and approach them, Eloise has carefully scooped Jack up and held him up in awe, getting a good look at his precious face.

Reluctantly lifting her nose from his head, inhaling that sweet baby smell, she gently turns him on her chest to let them all get a good look too.

"Oh, look at that smile!", Rosie coos, totally biased. "Someone loves his Godmother very much...".

Eloise gasps and cuts her wide watery eyes to Rosie. "Oh, wow, really?", she gapes at her, tearing up.

After peeling her arms back off Eloise and Jack, Rosie cups her boobs and groans.

"Have you got him?", she checks. "Harry, is there anywhere I can hide away for a few minutes? I need to pump to leave enough with Jason for tonight, but if this little monkey so much as smells it he'll kick off", she explains.

"Yeah, of course, you can use my dressing room", Harry offers, quickly looking bemused as she starts pulling stuff from the baby bag. He actually blushes when she drops a portable electric pumping kit into his arms as she continues rummaging. An oversized designer number in supple black leather, it's uber glam and eye-wateringly expensive, no doubt.

>

When Harry returns, he has magicked up a tiny pair of infant ear defenders. Perching alongside Eloise, he helps her adjust them on him before they sit quietly for a few minutes, transfixed as they melt over his blinking eyes, little frowning expressions and gummy smiles.

When he starts fussing and rooting against her chest, Harry can't help but chuckle. "I can't really blame you, but come on mate, I'm right here!".

She rolls her eyes at him and looks quickly back down at the baby. "They're no good for you! Oh, you know exactly what your mummy's up to, don't you? Shall we go and find her?", she stands up and adjusts him in her arms. "You need to stop molesting Aunty El, yes, you do!", she babbles at him.

After all the girls have made a fuss saying a temporary goodbye to him, Mer and Jules arrive to even more fanfare.

Now both just into their final trimester, Eloise is taken aback by their matching bumps.

She holds on to Jack that bit tighter and takes a split second to swallow the unexpected lump in her throat, grateful for Harry dropping a comforting warm palm to her lower back.

Pasting a broad smile on her face, she greets them warmly and introduces them to Jack before his grizzling intensifies and a code brown situation is revealed and she has to dash inside to find Rosie.

The hilarity of finding her in Harry's dressing room, hooked up like a dairy cow, is just what she needs to divert her thoughts. 

>

As the sun begins to set, a couple of hours before showtime, the atmosphere is already electric as more and more familiar faces appear in the green room.

Ben and James arrive at 7.30pm, having dashed over from the CBS lot as soon as they'd wrapped filming. Ben left his second in command in charge of the edit for tonight's show and keeps his phone anxiously in hand.

James, thinking it's hilarious, makes a play of covering Eloise's eyes to not look at Ben and cautiously shields him from her.

Despite her epic eye roll, Ben laughs too. "There's such a good joke in all this, but I can't quite figure it out without implicating myself".

"I get that he's a total DILF, El, but, umm...", Rosie deadpans, to everyone else's amusement.

"Oh, ha ha, very funny, all of you", Eloise sasses, happily shrugging them off as Harry calls her over to finally meet Rob Stringer, the CEO of Columbia Records. Trying to filter out their clowning from across the room, she settles into the role of dutiful girlfriend.

A few minutes later, she's swooped clean off her feet and into a tight hug from behind. Twisting, she's surprised to find it's Niall, looking good in a rust coloured shirt and a brown fedora. "No way! I didn't know you were coming? I didn't even know you were in LA!".

"Well, you would if you'd answered my messages...", he sasses.

"Oh, I'm sorry, my phone's been off all day", she winces, leaning back in for a proper hug and to wish him a belated happy birthday.

Ben interrupts them, hooking an arm around her shoulder as he asks to borrow her, intent on catching up. They haven't seen each other since June and it's certainly been an eventful few months.

>

When Harry and Eloise emerge a while later back into the green room from his dressing room, Rosie wolf whistles.

Excitedly quaffing champagne now that Jason had taken Jack off her hands for the night, she calls out excitedly, "Ooh, smoking hot! Is that Zimmerman?".

"Gucci, actually, babes", Harry deadpans, rolling his eyes playfully as she struts over to check out Eloise's new dress.

"Yep! Got it yesterday; a total bargain in the Neiman's sale".

"She wears white so I can see her in the front row from the stage", Harry grins, making her blush. "My only angel!", he winks, dropping a kiss to her temple before he swans off to do the rounds and chat with everyone else too.

>

Running a smoothing hand over his Gucci blue floral suit and black silk pussy bow shirt, Eloise gives him a good luck kiss before leaving him with the band.

Hastily topping up their drinks and following the stewards and security guards en masse, they're lucky the VIP pen in the front row is bigger than it had been in San Francisco last night. It's positively heaving.

Eloise, Anne, Gemma, Lou, Harry Lambert. Ben, Mer, James, Julia. Niall. Rosie. Jeff, Glenne and a handful of Azoffs. Cal and his family. Cindy and Rande. Tyler and Ryan are here, keen to check Harry and Mitch are doing justice to the album. And Mick Fleetwood too, here with his kids, to Harry's glee. A few other random celebrities pad out the rest of the space. It's mostly standing room only, but with a few seats lined along the back wall of the pen.

Everyone's buzzing and excited for the show.

The acoustics aren't quite as good as the auditorium last night, but the crowd's roar at seeing Harry's silhouette appear to open the show, echoes off the hills of the surrounding canyon and bounces back at them twofold.

>

Just two songs in, before launching into Carolina, Harry addresses the crowd.

"My job for the next hour and a bit is to entertain you. I will do my very best... Your job for the next hour and a bit is to have as much fun as you possibly can!".

From the resounding screams, it seems the almost 6,000 fans will try their very best. 

A few songs later, Harry struts over and leans out from the edge of the stage to blow Eloise kisses at the beginning of Only Angel. Her white dress keeps catching the lights and his eye.

He proceeds to dance like a maniac and keeps Sarah and the lights going and going for the outro. Someone's evidently feeling himself tonight.

After chugging some water, he takes a breather and gets the house lights up to see the crowd. "I want to say a massive thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I am completely overwhelmed by you guys. Thank you so much... This venue is amazing, so thank you for having me. I know you have a good view over the back of the Hills and everything, but, umm, please watch me, because I'll get sad if you don't, to be honest".

As he segues straight into the intro of Woman, Eloise reaches across to drape a thrown flag back over the railing. Separated from the others a bit, her mane of bright blonde hair flashes under the roving spotlights strung above the stage.

An opportunistic fan, with an evidently killer aim, lobs a drink at her and hollers "Cheating whore!".

Eloise jumps in surprise as it splashes all up the back of her dress. Letting out an automatic yelp, at the ice cold liquid and the tall cup the drink was in smacking into her shoulder blade, her first instinct is to drop out of sight, rather than whirl around in confrontation. From the sickly sweet smell, she'd wager it's vodka and coke. On her new, white, designer dress. Fuck.

After a second or two of murmuring and shocked gasps, there's an outcry from some surrounding fans; some join the shouting against her, others jump to her defence.

As Eloise crouches down and shuffles back away from the open railing at the front edge of the VIP pen, she staggers back against various legs.

Anne is horrified; Niall, Gemma and Glenne are all furious. Jeff tries to flag down security. Further away from their corner, Ben and Mer missed it, but make a fuss trying to understand what happened.

"Shh! Cool it, please. It's fine", she hisses. "Don't let him see, don't distract him, don't tell him", she begs.

But Mitch, who's closer to them, caught some of it; the commotion, at least. He whistles in signal to Harry, who confusedly calls to the rest of the band to loop the intro to Woman as he tries to suss out what's up.

Still strumming, he wanders over towards Mitch, but then changes tack and heads to the edge of the stage. But, scanning the crowd and the VIP pen in vain, it's too dark and there are too many bodies. Heading back to his mic stand, he addresses the audience. "Everyone good? All good?", he asks, directed at Mitch.

He thinks he understands his returning hand signal, if not the situation. "Oh, don't throw things, kids", he chastises with an exaggerated sigh, but immediately yelps and ducks as flowers and tinsel and written notes almost instantaneously shower over him from the front rows.

Making a play of diving out the way, he then catches more than a few things with his superhuman reflexes. Flinging a bra straight back, he catches a kiwi last and tosses it in his palm. "Wow, okay", he chuckles, "Better not go and write a song about a watermelon then... Lesson learned".

Still crouched down between Gemma and Niall's legs, Eloise frantically gestures for Mitch to keep quiet; eyes pleading as she shakes her head sternly.

When Harry looks back to Mitch, he asks again, "Everything okay?". At his eventual nod, he addresses the crowd again. "Well, let's get this show back on the road then, shall we?".

Waiting until the stage lights flare up again and they finally kick into Woman, Eloise signals to a steward and slips under the VIP pen railing.

Gemma reaches to quickly drape her denim jacket over her shoulders, and then she's off, running at a crouch to the shadows along the length of the front of the stage, ducking out of sight.

Heading for his dressing room, she snags a tour t-shirt with his face and today's date. An extra small, it's a little tight across her boobs, but it'll have to do. Shimmying her ruined dress off and her black denim shorts back on instead, she shrugs on Gemma's jacket again and runs back out, pulling her sticky hair up into a messy bun and out of the way.

She slips back into the pen a couple of songs later, just at the beginning of Just a Little Bit of Your Heart.

With his eyes roving for her white dress, Harry does a double take when he spots her in a different outfit, but gets distracted as his mic gets a mind of its own and keeps popping up out of position. Despite Alex's repeated efforts to fix it, Harry can't help but dissolve into laughter whilst he's trying to sing.

After What Makes You Beautiful, they fluff the beginning of Kiwi and Harry cheekily blames the crowd.

"Was that it? I'm gonna need a little more from you... I'm pretty into you right now, and I'm about to tell you I'm having your baby! Quite simply I'm going to need a little more from you...", he sasses. "Maybe we'll move on. Maybe we'll skip Kiwi tonight... Hmm? Oh, okay, well let's try it again".

Cheeky fucker. He then proceeds to throw water over them in the front row. Niall does his signature Mick Jagger move back at him, making him laugh again.

When he gives the band a shout out before The Chain, he ribs Mitch. "...And please make some noise - because he's certainly never made one - on guitar and vocals, it's Mr. Mitchell Rowland!".

Him then nailing the iconic opening riff is answer enough. Take that, Styles.

Harry repeats his heartfelt thanks from last night before launching into Sign of the Times. His vocals are incredible, nailing the runs and landing some playful ad-libs.

After bowing and blowing kisses, he bounces off stage on a high.

>

By the time they've all been escorted from the VIP pen back to the green room, Harry emerges from his dressing room, freshly showered and back in jeans and a t-shirt.

"Hey, you changed too?", he asks Eloise, hooking an arm around her waist and pulling her close.

"Just a spilled drink, no biggie", she shrugs, quickly distracting him with a kiss. "You were incredible, H! It looked like you loved every single minute of that".

"I really did! I'm buzzing", he grins before dropping a final peck to her lips before working the room, modestly soaking up all the praise and adulation.

>

In a great mood and still pumped with adrenaline, Harry had shouted out an invite to everyone left milling around the green room to an impromptu after party back at the house.

After the girls bundled out the car on the way back to stock up on booze, mixers and food, they'd all then jumped into action and dashed around in a bid to get things ready.

It's at least an hour later, and Harry has barely stopped moving since. Now hovering between the kitchen, lounge and balcony, he's trying to chat to everyone whilst frantically topping up drinks.

With almost thirty or so people milling around, he has his work cut out.

When Mer rounds the stairs up from the ground floor, Harry happens to spot Ben pull her to lean against his chest where he's perched on the back of the sofa. He can't help but notice his hand drop to cradle her bump protectively, and has to swallow an unexpected lump in his throat as he continues watching them.

Halting his conversation with Niall, Ben asks Mer if she found her.

"Yeah", she nods.

"Still quiet?", he asks lowly.

"Yeah, a bit", she frowns, chewing on her lip.

"Understandable...", Niall offers before taking a swig of his beer. "That was rough".

"What was rough?", Harry steps in, interest piqued, presuming they're talking about Eloise.

"Shit, you haven't heard?", Niall gapes. "You've not seen the footage?".

"No. Of what?", Harry frowns. "I'm not even sure where my phone is, actually".

Niall hands his over after a beat and Harry soon sucks in a breath, cutting his eyes briefly back up to them. "Fuuuuck...", he hisses, looking increasingly distraught as he scrolls down.

Anne spots them huddled close and heads over, reading Harry's body language as he tugs at his lip, scowling at the phone in his hand. Uh oh.

The now viral grainy footage of Eloise getting pegged in the back and hollered at makes him livid. "Why did no one tell me? Why didn't she tell me?", he snaps, looking accusingly at them all. "Where is she?", he asks Mer.

"H, cool it", his mum warns flatly, in a tone not to be messed with. Seeing the worry mar his face, she softens a little, clueing him in. "That story earlier shook her up... And that must have been humiliating, with the drink and everything those fans were shouting... She did the only thing she could. What would distracting you or getting you riled up have done, during just your second show?".

Anne drops a hand to his forearm, "She knows you love your fans, H, but some of them give her a really hard time... You're not the only one who gets jealous. She's dealing with millions of other green-eyed monsters too... So put a lid on it, alright? With the article and Twitter and fans and that drink and bumps and babies, she's had a bit of a day of it, okay? If you go in all guns blazing it will just blow up in your face".

After gaping at his mum, he flits his eyes to the others and nods, suitably chastised.

Her protective nature is usually for him, not at him, and it's a sight to behold. She can be feisty as fuck when she's protecting her flock.

He asks Mer where to find her.

>

Having jogged downstairs, he politely shakes off the little crowd on the sofas by the pool to head straight to the hot tub.

"Baby... Why didn't you tell me?", he asks softly, eyes imploring, as he promptly starts stripping off down to his boxers.

Having seen him coming, Gem and Lou bid a hasty, conscientious retreat to leave them to it.

With her back to the house, she peers over her shoulder at him, and sighs. "And do what, H? Distract you and have you stop the show? No way! It was just one fan", she swaps her seat to get a better look at him."It's not the first time I've had a drink thrown at me and I daresay it won't be the last", she chuckles flatly. "Don't fret".

"I saw the video. It wasn't just one fan...", he says gently. Hissing as he steps into the broiling water and sidles close, pulls her swiftly on to his lap, and drops a kiss to her shoulder as his fingers automatically toy with the tie of her bikini bottoms.

"I'm so sorry, baby... I can't believe any one of them would do something like that".

"It was that stupid article", she shrugs. "They were just being defensive of you. Admittedly in a pretty aggressive way... But just ignore it, it'll blow over", she twists in his lap and leans closer.

He eyes her sceptically but knows when she doesn't want to talk about something.

He'd normally be more than happy with her chosen means of distraction, but he knows eyes are on them and he's only in his boxers. Fuck.

They break from their kiss hearing shouts and laughter when Niall, Glenne and Adam jump into the pool, all striped down to their underwear too as the rest of the party spills outside.

>

"It wasn't just one fan, H", Jeff reminds Harry later as they're digging for more booze stashed in the garage.

"She took that well but shouldn't have to... Man, I still feel bad for believing that article this morning. But if I didn't give her the benefit of the doubt, what hope does she have, really? We can't keep letting her get vilified for shit like this. Her reputation's too important to her career".

Harry's never been one to acknowledge relationships beyond alluding to them vaguely in his songwriting. But, putting it bluntly, he's never had a serious relationship with someone who's reputation matters too.

Knowing his stance on it all, she must be feeling pretty powerless right now and he wants to nip it in the bud before it gets any worse. Hmm, lots to think about.

He resolves to tweet something pointed about being kind and wanting everyone to get to enjoy the shows as much as he does. But he'll ask Gemma to tweet something more direct to address it whilst he buys himself more time.

When he finally finds his phones and clocks all the notifications, he soon realises Eloise must have finally charged hers and posted something on her public Instagram after all.

It's a screenshot of the photo with her dad and brothers from the TMZ article, but her caption has him laughing out loud. Simple, witty, and oh so effective. And with no mention of him. God, she's classy.

For once, he's grateful of his fans' frantic tagging to spread a rumour - or, in this case, a response to one - like wildfire.


	4. Part D

22nd September 2017

They share matching groans when Eloise's alarm goes off at 7am on Friday morning.

Burrowing into the duvet, she's indulging in a delicious full body stretch when he rolls on top of her, swiping blindly at her phone on her nightstand.

Instead of rolling away, he flops down and nuzzles into her neck, nosing the silk camisole straps off her shoulders as he presses kisses along her collarbone.

"H, we really don't have time for this...", she sighs dejectedly, running her hands over his back and down to his bum.

"...That wasn't massively convincing", he chuckles, pressing his hips into hers.

"Well, you can be pretty compelling", she concedes, "But you're no wizard, Harry... Come on, up, up!", she squeezes his bum cheekily.

"Oh, something's definitely up...", he gripes lowly, rolling dejectedly off her.

She follows him to squish his cheeks. "Don't huff! How's you head?", she asks suspiciously.

"Throbbing a bit", he pinches the bridge of his nose. Peeking one eye open he adds, "...Both of them", with a wink and another flex of his hips.

Raising an eyebrow, she braces her hands either side of his shoulders and pulls herself up to straddle his hips. Bending slowly forward, she cants her hips into his, making him hiss at the pressure, and drops her lips to his neck to plant open mouthed kisses up towards his ear. "Should have thought of that before you passed out on me last night, then!", she whispers.

Popping up to all fours, she pecks a chaste kiss to his lips before jumping up, too quick for him to catch her. Laughing as she strips off his oversized t-shirt on her way to the ensuite, she tosses it back to land square in his face.

>

He'd kicked off Anne's 'month of fun' yesterday with an early dinner at Providence on Melrose Avenue. After the indulgent seafood tasting menu, they'd dropped Gemma at LAX, for her late flight home for a friend's wedding in London.

With her early shoot looming, Eloise had been designated driver, letting the three of them make the most of their last night all together.

Anne and Harry had unwisely cracked open another bottle of wine when they arrived back home. Calling it a night after breaking up their dance party in the kitchen, Eloise had batted off his roving hands and bawdy comments all the way upstairs, but then emerged from the ensuite only to find him already fast asleep with his jeans only half off.

He has an ever-updating list of special treats and activities planned for her - one a day for the next thirty days - in the run up to her big birthday.

Never having wanted to cramp his style with the boys, she's joining him on tour for the very first time, and already buzzing for the month ahead. And he hasn't even yet told her the extent of his plans, in the fear she'd threaten to run off home at the fuss and expense.

After their slap up dinner to kick things off, the list also includes trips to Dollywood and Graceland, a night at a cowboy dude ranch in Arizona, tickets to a Broadway show and a baseball game, and sessions at a tattoo parlour, with a jewellery designer and even a custom Gucci commission of her own design.

Eloise isn't quite sure which of them is more excited for their extended time together. She and Gemma had been lamenting the fear of missing out already, but only encouraged the twinkle in Harry's eye each time he excitedly told them about a new idea.

She suspects, having had assistants and managers galore since the age of sixteen, he's experiencing the thrill of accomplishing a little life admin - the satisfaction of having ideas and being directly accountable for seeing them come to fruition.

>

By the time she steps out the shower, he's clad in a towel at the sink. Eyeing her in the mirror he starts talking around his toothbrush. "I didn't let slip last night, did I?", he frowns.

She just about translates it through his mouthful of toothpaste and shakes her head, chuckling. "I don't think so... I'm pretty sure she'll be surprised".

"She's going to freak!". Her own love of surprises must be rubbing off on him.

Before they head downstairs to grab some breakfast, Harry runs through the plans again. "My meeting should be done by 10am and I'll head straight there, just text me the address. That'll still give us a couple of hours before the journalists are due, right?".

Hanging out with Stevie Nicks should definitely tick the box for day two of Anne's month of fun.

Other than this morning's meeting, Harry has a long weekend off until they need to fly to Nashville on Monday morning to resume the tour.

Press obligations are starting to ramp up ahead of Daisy Jones & The Six being released next month. Intent on spending as much time as possible with Eloise before she flies home on Sunday evening, he'd happily while away time just watching her work; so getting to hang out with his and his mum's idol at the same time is just the cherry on top.

Equally keen to spend time with Eloise and eager to see her in action, Anne had asked if she could tag along before Harry had even mentioned his meeting, and certainly with no idea about Queen Stevie.

>

Parting with a kiss on the drive, Harry peeled off towards West Hollywood in the Range Rover whilst Eloise took the scenic route to Pacific Palisades on the coast.

With the Mercedes' roof down, the early LA sunshine and balmy breezy helped dry her still damp hair. She could only beam and nod when Anne insisted they put on some Fleetwood Mac for a little open-air karaoke. Perfect.

As Eloise pulls through the grand security gate thirty minutes later and parks in a shady corner of the drive, Anne still doesn't seem to suspect anything. The beautiful private house is far from a usual shoot location, but she seems too distracted by the colourful flower beds and pristine landscaping to take much notice.

When Reese's assistant greets them at the front door, Eloise figures she might just have a chance at actually pulling this off without any spoilers.

Leading her out the door to the deck, where she can already hear Reese talking a mile a minute, Eloise can't see Anne's reaction, but, with her little yelp of surprise, can just picture it.

After pouncing on Eloise with tight hugs, clued in from her messages yesterday, Reese and Stevie both promptly turn and greet Anne by name before embracing her warmly too.

Eloise is taken aback when Anne then launches her into a tight hug of her own too, quietly babbling awed thanks and jokingly questioning if she's still drunk and dreaming all this.

Reese's sprawling home is beautifully designed and spotlessly clean. They've already styled different areas around the garden for the photographs. There's a long table on the back deck, striped with sunlight streaming through the trellis above; a picnic blanket and floor cushions spread out under a huge gnarly olive tree; and loungers set up under a gazebo by the pool.

If it wasn't for the equipment and crew milling about, it would just feel like friends hanging out. Eloise hopes that makes it all the more special for Anne.

In a blur of introductions - to the photographer, Marco, and his crew, and to the stylist and glam team - they're offered coffees and breakfast too.

Whisked up to a spacious guest bedroom and ensuite, Eloise is dolled up with loose waves and dewy, natural looking make-up. Going for a relatively relaxed vibe for the shoot, they first style her in black leather trousers and a just slightly sheer white silk shirt. Reese is in a floaty white dress, and Stevie in a signature black leather and lace ensemble.

Marco quickly gets some great shots with the three of them posing together. With their trans-generational friendship, the atmosphere is chilled and full of easy laughter.

Anne eagerly watches on and laps it up with a proud smile on her face.

As they swap the set up, ready for some individual shots, Eloise heads over to sit and chat with her as Marco gets started with Stevie and then Reese.

They rotate places and the charming Italian is soon gushing over Eloise through his lens. "Beautiful, that's it! This light's perfect... Oh, you're making this too easy for me!".

>

After some quiet sweet talking from Eloise, the glam team insist on treating Anne to a mani-pedi and a blow-dry out on the deck whilst they have some downtime.

When Eloise skips back downstairs a short while later, she's made a quick change into an even more relaxed look - barefoot, in vintage denim shorts, with a chunky waffle-knit sweater slipping off her shoulder.

Rounding the door out to the deck, she grins to see Harry. "Hard at work, or hardly working? You said you'd be her assistant for the day!", he sasses to his mum with a laugh as she sits blushing, caught mid-pamper.

Sidling up behind him, Eloise pinches at his ribs to make him jump. In return, he slings an arm around her waist, hums in approval as he casts an appreciative eye over her, and drops a kiss to her head.

From his spot opposite, showing Reese some shots on his laptop, Marco looks up and gapes at them. "Oh, of course!". He promptly cranes around to look between Anne and Harry, "...I thought you looked familiar!"

>

After another round of coffees as Harry catches up with Stevie, they move swiftly on to the other set-ups; candidly-styled roving freestyle shots this time, as Reese, Stevie and Eloise chat amongst themselves.

Once they wrap, all delighted with what they have, Marco offers to snap a few photos of Anne and Harry, and then with Eloise too. Clued in on the special plans ahead of her birthday, it had been Reese's thoughtful suggestion.

It's safe to say Anne's day is absolutely made when Stevie asks if Marco can take one of her and Anne too.

When Reese's assistant pops her head around the patio door to let them know the first journalist is due in fifteen minutes, Harry takes that as their cue to leave.

Whilst he's rummaging in Eloise's handbag to swap car keys, Reese asks him if he wouldn't mind signing the One Direction poster on her daughter's bedroom wall. He happily obliges and writes her a sweet little note whilst he's up there, just for good measure.

Finally successful in his attempts to drag an overly enamoured Anne from Stevie's clutches, he gives Eloise a sweet kiss goodbye.

Spotting a BMW saloon slow and indicate in his rearview mirror just after he pulls out the drive in the Mercedes, he blows out a sigh of relief and tunes back into his mum, already rabbiting to Gemma on speakerphone, filling her in, play by play, on her unforgettable morning.

>  
>

24th September 2017

"Psst... Babe... Baby... El...".

Swatting weakly behind her, she burrows her head further under his recently vacated pillow and groans, "No way... Nope... Too early... Not happening, H".

Feeling the mattress dip under his shifting weight, she braces in anticipation, but is no match for his strength. Scooping his big hands under her shoulder and hip, he neatly flips her straight on to her back.

With a defeated huff, she groans into his pillow before peeling it off, peeking one eye open and swiftly thumping him over the head with it. "Baaaabe! This was my last chance for a lie-in in forever", she pouts.

They're still in LA, but she's flying to London tonight, ready to continue filming. He's due to fly out to Nashville in the morning to resume the tour with his mum in tow.

Still chuckling from the surprise pillow attack, he promptly leans forward and pecks a chaste kiss to her lips, finding her irresistibly cute this morning. "Nope", he sasses back, popping the 'p'. "It's your last day and we're absolutely not wasting it".

"I need to pop out to get something and then drop mum off at the spa, but I'll be back in an hour", he explains, distractedly fixing his hair in the mirror on the console table.

Nodding, she spots her opportunity and promptly flips back on to her stomach, mumbling a muffled "Mmmkay" in his pillow.

Groaning in defeat as he stands up, he takes her by surprise with a swift slap to her arse.

Jumping in surprise, she cranes her neck back up in protest. "You said I had an hour!".

"Use it wisely then...", he calls out, already heading down the landing.

He laughs when he hears her groan again. "Fuck, you... Arsehole!", she quickly scrambles up. "Wait, I need to say goodbye to her now then".

"Charming! Happy anniversary to you too, baby...", he laughs over his shoulder.

"Oh, finally... He admits it!", she hollers back.

It's their second anniversary. Well, officially. He still insists it's the 4th of July. Now they've celebrated both dates, again.

>

Harry shakes his head when he lets himself back into the house just over an hour later. It's quiet. Too quiet.

Pausing in the hallway, he cocks his head to listen out, but can't hear her upstairs either.

He smirks naughtily, already considering how he'll choose to wake her up now they have the house to themselves. But, on his way to the stairs, he thinks twice.

Quickly plating the takeaway pastries and coffees on a tray with the little wrapped gift alongside, he then gets distracted by a phone call from Ben.

Still not hearing a peep from upstairs, he accepts the call and settles on the sofa with his coffee.

>

When he hadn't reappeared upstairs, she'd almost lost her nerve.

With a flutter of butterflies, she takes a deep breath as she toes off her heels at the top of the stairs, hearing him on the phone in the kitchen or living room.

Tip toeing stealthily down, she pauses in the foyer to slide them back on and takes a moment to centre herself.

She's never dressed up like this and feels a bit ridiculous. It's all a bit much for still pre- 10am on a Sunday morning.

Hesitating at the hallway mirror, she casts an eye over herself. In black patent killer heels and a sexy black, push-up, lace teddy; her short silky robe is tied loosely over the top, slipping invitingly off one shoulder. Teasing her tousled wavy hair, she runs a finger under one smudgy, smokey eye and at the corner of her bold red lip.

Adjusting her bra, she pauses when she realises who he's talking to, and can't help but grin evilly. Nerves forgotten, this just got a little bit fun.

Slapping a knowing, sultry smile across her face, she struts casually through the living room as if she hasn't seen him.

Predictably, he stops talking mid-sentence, and she catches his jaw drop out the corner of her eye. Deciding to up the ante, she lifts a foot to the piano bench and bends over, as if adjusting her heel.

"Holy fuck!", his voice cracks. Hastily clearing his throat, he grits out, "Ben, God, I cannot talk to you right now... I'll have to call back later". He promptly hangs up and tosses his phone aside, already prowling closer.

Spinning on her heel, she lands straight in his arms.

"Happy anniversary, baby", she whispers, biting her lip as she bats her lashes at him, feeling a subtle blush colour her cheeks.

"Oh, fuck me...!", he groans, reverently casting his eyes slowly up and down, jumping from feature to feature as if they can't decide where to settle. "You absolute minx! Where have you been hiding this?", he gapes. Tugging at the tie of her silk robe, he spreads it open and slips his hands in to slide it off her shoulders to palm the delicate lace over her waist and hips.

"Consider it part of your present...", she smirks.

"Then you've already been way too generous", he quips smoothly.

Swiftly scooping her up, he wraps her legs around his waist as he sits on the piano bench. Situating her in his lap, he captures her lips in a hot kiss and leans forward until her back hits the keys.

The resulting melody certainly won't make it on to his next album, but he's almost certain he'll need to write a song about this. About how she looks and feels right now. 

Theirs is an all-consuming, carnal love, but it feels like his head and heart are warring. The pretty blush on her cheeks and the mild awkwardness oozing from her makes him want to protect her at all costs. But the overall package and hungry look in her eyes makes him want to absolutely ravage her.

With another four weeks apart looming, making some memories today to tide them over seems like the perfect way to spend their anniversary and a rare day alone.

>

Finally pulling back from their kiss to catch his breath, when Harry looks over her shoulder, his eyes widen dramatically.

She immediately tenses in his lap and desperately tries to read his expression.

At his panicked "Oh, fuck, shit, umm...", a feeling of dread settles over her. Cringing and whimpering, she makes even more of a cacophony against the keys as she tries to scramble upright and find purchase on the floor.

"Shit, stop! Fuck, just go away... Now, please".

Holy shit! With a high Brazilian cut, her arse is almost entirely hanging out, her boobs are spilling out of the low cut cups, and she's literally spread in an awfully compromising position. She could die of embarrassment, and tries to work out who it might be. Jeff? Mitch? Oh, God, his mum?!

Wishing the ground would swallow her up, desperate to just disappear, she melts against his chest, burrowing her flaming face in his neck as she tries to hook her robe off the floor with the pointed toe of her heel.

She has never felt so embarrassed in her whole life - and she grew up at the mercy of three older brothers and has been locked in an escalating prank war with Rosie for years now. It must be comeuppance for trying to be sexy; who does she think she is?

Desperately trying to suppress his inappropriate, panicked laughter, he realises he may have seriously misjudged things when he feels her practically hyperventilating against his chest. Oops.

"Oh, my God! Who is it?", she hisses in his ear.

When the desperate tone of her voice only sets him off more, sighing exasperatedly, she turns around sheepishly.

There's no one there.

Whipping back around to him again to ask who it was, she just catches the guilty look on his face. "No fucking way...", she hollers, recoiling from him. "Are you kidding me? That's not fucking funny", she seethes.

Face flaming even brighter red in her quick fury, she shoves at his shoulders - still shaking with mirth - and rises abruptly, clambering to her feet.

Kicking off her heels, she bends to snatch her robe up, then promptly spins and storms off towards the stairs. "You are a fucking arsehole! Way to ruin the mood", she snaps over her shoulder.

>

Wasting no time, when he makes it upstairs with a sheepish expression and the loaded tray as a peace offering - and having swapped the now cold coffees for a chilled bottle of Dom Perignon - he clocks the scented candles flickering around the bedroom on his way to find her in their ensuite bathroom, already furiously wiping off her make-up.

"Please, stop", he asks softly, dropping a stilling hand to her elbow and pressing a kiss to her shoulder before locking his eyes on hers in the mirror. "I'm so sorry, baby. I am an arsehole... But I was only trying to be funny and reclaim a bit of control. You totally took me by surprise".

Eyes flashing with hurt, still totally flustered, she isn't having it. "You ruined it! Hope you got a good look, because I'm never doing that again". She braved a vulnerable step outside her comfort zone for him and feels like he threw it in her face.

Shaking his hand off her elbow, she promptly heads out the ensuite to their walk-in closet.

>

When she emerges again, in an oversized t-shirt, with her tote bag slung over her shoulder, and a bundle of clothes in her arms, he blocks the doorway, having waited patiently.

Given the way she looks - like nothing short of a goddess, to him - he'd admit it's worryingly easy to fall into the trap of overlooking or being insensitive to any natural insecurities she may have.

He raises an eyebrow.

She raises both back.

"I'm an idiot".

"You are", she nods. "I mean it, I'm never doing that again".

"I couldn't love you any more than in this anyway". He drops one hand to tug at the hem of her t-shirt and lifts the other to stroke her cheek and swipe his thumb over her now bare lips.

Cocking her head, she narrows her eyes at him, appraisingly.

"Let me try to make it up to you...", he asks lowly, taking a step in towards her, nodding his head to the tray on the bed.

"You've only got about five hours...", she raises an eyebrow in challenge.

Intent on using them very, very wisely, he promptly shoves the clothes out her arms and bag off her shoulder to lift her up and into his arms. In a bid to make amends, he carries her straight over to their bed, where they while away the day, after all.


	5. Part E

21st October 2017

After an early start in London, Eloise landed back in LA just after lunchtime on Thursday, but her feet have barely touched the floor ever since.

She'd been filming until Wednesday night and, due to work all through the weekend, is running purely on caffeine, adrenaline and excitement. Daisy Jones & The Six premieres in a few days here and then in London, ahead of its imminent general release.

Based out of the Santa Monica office of Reese's production company, Hello Sunshine, she's been too-ing and fro-ing across the city for meetings, interviews, stylist fittings, drinks and dinners.

Hustling and bustling.

Schmoozing.

And snoozing - well, as and when she can. Jet lag is still a bitch.

With an uncanny ability to fold her long limbs up and drop off easily for a quick power nap, even in the most inopportune places, the promise of snatching forty winks sometime soon is about the only thing still keeping her on her aching feet right now.

That, and seeing Harry, obviously.

He, Anne and his team had arrived back in LA a few days ago, with a ten day break after wrapping up the hugely successful North American opening leg of the tour in Arizona.

Reunited after almost a month apart, she'd finally arrived at the house in the Hills on Thursday evening and struggled to keep her eyes open over their al fresco dinner. She'd ended up crashing out against his shoulder on the balcony sofa and he'd carried her up to bed.

Regrettably, she's not seen much of him since.

>

She had to duck out of Anne's birthday brunch early to head back to the Chateau Marmont for an afternoon tea with the last couple of journalists they couldn't squeeze into yesterday's press junket.

Hopping in an Uber, she snatches a teasing ten minute nap on her way to the Hollywood Bowl, where Harry is performing tonight at CBS Radio's breast cancer awareness benefit concert.

He had requested an early slot in the schedule to be able to slide off straight afterwards for the birthday dinner, but that meant an early soundcheck too, so they've been killing time there since early afternoon.

>

Eloise thanks the production assistant and heads quickly down the corridor backstage, towards the last room on the left.

Grinning as she hears Anne and her brother's matching laughs ring out - Harry had flown his aunt and uncle in yesterday for her final pre-birthday surprise - she slows up and peeks around the corner before heading in.

She spots them laughing with Gemma on the far sofa, but her eyes are drawn to Harry. Leaning against the wall, he's peering at something on Jeff's phone; delectable in bright green trousers, black Vans and an oversized brown jumper. He looks amazing, but that's not what he was wearing earlier, so she figures Harry Lambert must be about.

Cursing under her breath as her phone vibrates in her hand, she dips quickly back out of sight and paces along the corridor.

It's the film's Senior Publicist, picking up the last of their cut-off conversation from earlier. "Hi again... I get that, but he was pushy throughout and a bit rude to Suki and Sam too... Well I definitely noticed, and it was pretty awkward that no one stepped in... Look, I've got to go, but can you talk to them and try to avoid it again? Especially tomorrow... Okay, thanks. See you then".

As she's in the process of shaking it and work off to enjoy the rest of her Saturday, Jeff makes her jump, slinging an arm around her waist from behind.

With a broad smile and a mini hip check, she moves to head into the dressing room. "Everything okay?", he asks quietly, tugging her back and eyeing her intently.

"Mmm hmm", she nods, patting his hand before heading through the doorway.

He calls out from behind her, "Look, look! I met a movie star in the hallway!".

Twisting to swat at and hush him, by the time she turns back, all eyes are on her, including Harry's; scanning appreciatively over her black leather dungaree dress, semi sheer cream silk shirt and chunky lace up boots.

"Oh, hey Kermy!", she says with a grin and her best Muppets impression, nodding at his bright green trousers.

"Well, hi, Miss Piggy", Harry replies as Kermit the Frog, not missing a beat.

This may not have been the first time they've used these. Total losers.

"How was your day, my love?", he keeps it up.

"Oh, you know, very schmoozy", she pushes him down into a chair and perches on his lap dramatically. "How was soundcheck?".

Everyone in the room is watching and laughing, but it's Harry Lambert that lends some sass. "You two are ridiculously perfect for each other... Too talented for your own good, and well, you look like that", he sweeps a hand over them, "But you are absolute imbeciles!".

"Heeeey!", Harry's whine, still very much in character, sets Eloise off and she crumbles into weak laughter, snuggling against the soft knit at his chest.

Jeff takes a seat on the sofa opposite and eyes him pointedly over her head.

At Harry shaking his head slightly, Jeff silently mouthes, "If you don't, I will".

Rolling his eyes skywards for effect, Harry nudges her slightly in his arms. "Hey, umm, baby...", he whispers.

"Hmm?", she mumbles tiredly.

"There's, erm, something I need to run past you...".

"Yeah?", she rolls her head up on to his shoulder to look up at him, twirling her fingers through the curls at the crown of his head.

"Well, I was offered a pretty big gig... But they're chasing for my decision".

"Ooh!", she brightens, "What? Where? When?". Her smile falters slightly as she sees him wince.

"It's, umm, in Shanghai. In November... For, umm... For the, umm, Victoriassecretfashionshowthing", he mumbles quickly.

"The what?".

He grimaces and peeks one eye back open to catch her reaction. "Victoria's Secret. The big annual catwalk hoohah...".

"Jeffrey!", she twists and playfully scolds, "I thought I liked you?!".

"Hey, they called me!", he protests. "But, what, don't you trust him?", he teases, taking confidence in her light tone.

"Oh, I trust him implicitly. It's the fleet of exes and thirsty half naked supermodels I'll be more worried about!".

Settling back against Harry's chest, she misses the rude gesture he fires to Jeff whilst looking cautiously between her, his mum, aunt and sister. What a shit stirrer.

Looking back up, Eloise offers a reassuring soft smile, "It gets a huge audience and coverage, right? Congrats, baby".

After pecking a kiss to his lips, her eyes flutter closed with just a small frown marring her brow.

>

Having succumbed to a power nap, Eloise arches her back as she stretches over Harry's lap. "Sorry", she yawns.

"That's quite alright. Didn't need the feeling in my legs anyway", he jokes.

"Watch it! You've already called me Miss Piggy once today", she sasses back.

Harry Lambert scoffs, looking up from his phone across the room. "Have you decided for tomorrow yet, hun?".

"Depends how much I eat tonight, to be honest...", she snorts, raising her eyebrows at Harry in a silent dare. "The metallic Louis Vuitton with the zip up the front is tight! But, if not that, then probably the short Balmain with the bronze fringing, I think".

"Ooh, both are gorgeous! With those legs, I'd be inclined to go shorter anyway".

Gemma calls her agreement from across the room.

"Can you all stop perving on my girlfriend, please?", Harry smirks, running his hand over as much of her bare, toned leg as he can reach.

"Well stop pawing at her then! And maybe try and be more discrete, yeah?".

They all spin to the open door hearing the unexpected voice, cheering and jumping to their feet.

Niall, proferring a bottle of champagne that looks suspiciously like the brand stocked in the dressing room fridge, greets Anne first with a big fuss and a long hug, before moving on to Gemma, Eloise and Harry.

He's a surprise performer tonight, but had clued Harry in already.

The rest of the line-up includes Pink, Sam Smith, Lorde and Khalid, among others; but two members of One Direction reuniting will almost certainly be the headline news.

They chat with Niall, catching up for a bit before his manager collects him for his soundcheck. "Catch you guys later!".

>

"My name's Harry, I'm from England", is his modest introduction to the cheering 17,000 strong crowd.

In a bespoke Stella McCartney red suit that fits him like a glove, he saunters and swaggers his way effortlessly through Carolina and Two Ghosts and then Only Angel.

Addressing the crowd again, he adds, "... And today is my mother's fiftieth birthday! She's going to kill me for telling you she's fifty", he chuckles awkwardly, peering down towards them at the far end of the front row and grimacing playfully. "Today is my mother's twenty seventh birthday!", he jokes. "Alright, she's fifty, okay? She's fine. But I would love if you would help me sing Happy Birthday to her. She's very nice. Her name is Anne, with an 'e'... But that doesn't exactly matter for singing Happy Birthday, just saying".

After a rousing rendition from the whole crowd, he applauds them back. "The cheapest gift there is, thank you! Okay, I'm going to sing one of my mum's favourite songs now. If you know the words, please sing along".

He launches into a storming version of his new take on What Makes You Beautiful, but, to the crowd's disappointment, Niall doesn't venture out to join him.

During the final song of his set, Kiwi, he kneels in front of fans and is shockingly groped just before the final chorus, but he jumps up and carries on smoothly; ever the professional, the show must go on.

They don't notice at the time, but Eloise and Jeff are horrified when it mentions it to them backstage. He doesn't tell his mum and sister though, not tonight.

He changes and they swiftly pack up and apologise to Niall that they can't stay for his set. With a quiet word of warning from Harry to keep his distance from any rabid fans, they leave the venue to head off for Anne's final birthday celebration.

>

After another rendition of Happy Birthday, they relax with some more drinks after dinner at Ysabel. It's busy at 11pm on a Saturday night, but they secure the best table in the house; candle-strewn, under the magical fairy-lit tree growing in the centre of the courtyard.

Huddled close and feeling warm and fuzzy, they're all listening intently to a funny story from Harry's uncle.

Taking it easiest on the drinks, on account of her big day tomorrow and given she's been trying to conceal her yawns for the last half an hour, Eloise suddenly jumps in surprise.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire...", someone sing songs lowly, right in her ear.

With a hand on her chest, she twists in her chair, then promptly jumps to her feet, turning around with a firm hand planted on Harry's shoulder.

She dodges in front of him, trying to obscure his view.

"Thought I recognised you!", the guy smirks as he takes another pull from his bottle of beer.

"I didn't lie about anything", she counters flatly, hand on hip.

"You so did! Very cosy looking dinner with your not-boyfriend then", he scoffs, trying to peer around her again.

"Check your tape and you'll see I swerved all your irrelevant questions and comments... And I'm definitely off the clock now, so I'd appreciate if you'd let me continue hanging out with all my friends", she says pointedly.

"You need to loosen up", he scoffs with a sneer.

"I'm plenty loose".

"For real. I could tell I was ruffling your feathers earlier... You need a better poker face".

"You were being rude to the others", she maintains.

"It's your movie. You're the only interesting one".

She frowns. "That's unfair".

"That's Hollywood. Don't be naive".

"Everything okay, El?", Jeff cuts in, stepping partially in front of her, facing the journalist.

He reluctantly backs up. "I'll go. But toughen up, or they'll eat you alive tomorrow... Enjoy your night with lover boy!", he adds teasingly with a wink before spinning on his heel and slinking off.

Jeff pulls her into a side hug as Harry, craning around him, finally jumps up and huffs. "Who what that? Fucking tosser! God, I wanted to tell him where to go".

She pats his chest soothingly and sits back down, tugging him with her, more conscious of potential eyes on them than before.

As she conciliates Gemma and Glenne's concerned looks, Eloise's tight grip on Harry's thigh under the table tells him she's feeling ruffled.

"What was that about? You okay?", he asks quietly, rubbing his hand over hers.

Grabbing his tumbler of tequila on the rocks, she takes a big sip. "Fuck", she hisses, wincing as she wipes her lips with the back of her hand. "He's a journalist".

"Shit", he sighs, peering over his shoulder.

"He was trying to rile me earlier and totally ignored the others, it was just so awkward".

"Well, I think we've had enough reminders for one night that this town can be full of arseholes", he sighs.

She raises and tips his glass towards him in agreement.

"That all?", he prompts as he leans closer to nudge her shoulder.

"I'm starting to dread tomorrow a bit, to be honest... I'm not quite sure I'm ready for all this?".

His peck to her temple and whispered words of reassurance don't manage to ease her frown entirely, but she tries in vain to shake it off and focus back on Anne as she starts another round of warm words in heartfelt, if slightly slurry, thanks.

"So, my knee giving me gip is a worrying new development, but I'm a firm believer in only being as old as you feel. And while trying to keep up with you lot...", she gestures to Gemma, Harry and Eloise, "Is exhausting just to watch, nothing gives me more energy or makes my heart overflow with love and pride like watching you all go after what you want and get it. I live for your successes and the lessons you learn along the way. I love you very much".

Blinking away welling, happy tears, Eloise is reminded just where Harry's kindness and killer pep talks come from.

This wonderful woman. She couldn't adore her any more.

>  
>

22nd October 2017

Harry wakes with a start; his fuzzy head not helping his confusion.

At Gemma repeating his name again, he cranes his head up towards the door.

"Your girlfriend is on one; noisily", she says flatly, tone giving away her hangover too.

He whips around and belatedly realises Eloise isn't in bed.

"I think she might be having a bit of a wobble, H", she softens a bit, looking concerned.

"Where?", he rakes a hand over his face before reaching to his nightstand to check the time. 7.15am. Jesus.

"In the gym".

"Fuuuuck", he groans, throwing off the duvet dramatically. Peeling himself up, he stretches and follows Gemma, padding down the hallway in just his black boxers.

>

He can hear her trainers striding against the belt on his way down the stairs from the kitchen.

Peeking around the door into the gym, he takes stock.

On the treadmill, facing the window, she's breathing hard and he can faintly hear the beat of her music through her headphones. He's impressed with her speed - closer to loping sprint than jog, and on a punchy incline - but can't help but wonder what she seems to be punishing herself for? His gloves are out too, suggesting she'd already had a crack at the punching bag.

They only made it home at 1am. And with how exhausted she'd already been, he knows she needs more sleep than that, especially given the day ahead of her... Ah.

Pushing off the doorframe, he approaches cautiously, not wanting to startle her.

But she does anyway, as soon as she clocks him in her peripheral vision; breaking her stride, she immediately fumbles at the controls. Slowing to a still pacy walk, she tugs off her headphones and holds on to the top of the display screen, hanging her head as she sucks in heaving breaths.

He sidles closer, looking up at her carefully. "You okay?".

She lifts her head up and eyes him for a beat, before blowing out a long breath as she swipes her arm across her brow.

"If this is about the Miss Piggy thing, babe-", he deadpans.

She cuts him off with a shake of her head. "Just nervous energy... Couldn't sleep".

"You can't have had much... How long have you been at it down here?".

"Couldn't turn my brain off", she shrugs.

He pops a hip against the machine and hooks an arm over the top of the screen, getting comfy. "Talk to me then", he shrugs playfully back.

Tightening her messy ponytail, she chuckles flatly, "I don't know where to start...".

"Come on, what's worrying you?", he prompts.

"Everything!", she throws her arms up in exasperation. "I mean, what am I doing?! Am I really ready for this? How am I supposed to deal with the pressure? How will this change things?".

"This isn't your first role or your first premiere, so why does it feel different now?".

"It's the weight of it all... I love her, but God, Reese has been pushing me hard. She seems to have this infinite, totally unproven faith in me... I feel like it's all on me and I'm expected to carry it all, which is unfair to the other guys when it's billed as an ensemble. And they're going to put me on the spot later, I just know it - the journalists on the red carpet. About what's next, and about us, and, God, they warned me they'll probably go in on my weight when we were shooting too... Fuck, it's all just a lot".

As her ranting only speeds up, he leans over the treadmill screen to slow it further, but she continues on, unabashed. "But what am I even doing? I hate being the centre of attention for the most part. I hate journalists. Why the fuck have I even chosen this job? Oh, God, and the thought of waiting to hear what everyone thinks of it and judging my performance and the music, and-".

"You done?", he cuts her off.

She gasps for breath.

"Does that feel any better? Just getting it off your chest?'.

She cocks her head and considers it for a beat. "Yeah, a bit", she quirks her lips in the softest of smiles.

"Bottling it up never helps, trust me. I've been there, done that, designed the fucking t-shirt...". As he hits his proverbial stride, he launches into one of his pep talks.

>

A few minutes later, as she finally drops the treadmill's speed entirely to end her workout, he steps around it. She turns, following his movement as he steps up, caging her in with her back against the screen.

Looping her arms behind his neck, she drops her forehead to his bare chest, nuzzling to feel the gentle rise and fall of his measured breathing, and the slow and steady thumping of his heart. Hers, both, are altogether wilder.

"How do you always know just what to say?", she asks softly.

"Simple", he drops a kiss to the crown of her head. "It's all true".

"Hmm...", she chuckles sceptically, "But you're a bit biased".

"Not at all", he scoffs.

She lifts her head to look up at him and raises an eyebrow. "I give you blow jobs. Your judgement's definitely clouded". The gentle twining of her fingers through the messy bed hair at the nape of his neck, belies her bold words.

Barking a laugh, he reaches behind her to power down the treadmill.

"No word of a lie, I promise you". He drops a kiss to her sweaty forehead then grimaces, sticking out his tongue.

"I'm feeling a bit fragile, so this...", he gestures around the gym, "Is all a bit too much for me, and you need more sleep. Come on, you can stretch upstairs...".

He lifts a hand to unwrap hers from his neck and steps down, pulling her with him and into the crook of his arm. Leaning close to drop a kiss to her temple, he chuckles naughtily as they head into the hallway towards the stairs. "...And I happen to know a few ways for you to burn some energy and make you sleepy at the same time".

Spotting the door ajar to the guest bedroom along the way, she winces and calls out "Sorry Gem", softly over her shoulder. Oops.

>

"Where's my bloody brilliant baby sister, then?", Ben booms, arm outstretched as he bursts on to the balcony where Harry, Anne, Gemma, Jeff and Glenne hang out, sipping coffees and soaking up the midday rays.

"...Oh?", he looks around in confusion, dropping his arm with a huff.

"She's not here, so you can cut the dramatics", Harry laughs, standing up to greet them and quickly offer Mer his seat.

"What?", Ben gapes, confused. "Do not tell me she's done a runner?".

"Of course not! They're all getting ready at a suite at the Mondrian, on Sunset", he explains. "You won't see her till the carpet now".

"Shit, she's already gone? I didn't realise", he gestures weakly with the big bouquet of flowers in his other hand.

"How was she?", Mer asks.

"Umm, a bit up and down...", Harry rubs the back of his neck.

"I'll bet!", it's Ben's turn to snort a laugh. "When she was younger, before opening nights of a new ballet or performances at school, she was a total nightmare".

"Well, thanks for the heads up! Could have done with that at 7am!". Harry goes to smack his arm, but Anne blocks it and takes the flowers off Ben to find a vase in the kitchen.

Mer snorts a laugh. "Judging by this, I'd say she's currently on an up...", she turns her phone around to show the tagged photo of Eloise in Suki's Instagram post; arm in arm, in matching dressing gowns, on the terrace of a penthouse suite, they're each clutching a bottle of champagne in one hand and grinning broadly.

>

Alone for the first time all afternoon - well besides Charles, her agent, sat up front alongside the driver - Eloise FaceTime's Harry from the car whilst stuck in traffic at the other end of Hollywood Boulevard.

He and the others are just pulling up around the back of the movie theatre complex. "Holy shit, El! You look stunning", he gushes, peering at her, rendered almost speechless.

"Thank you, H, but, umm, I'm freaking out a bit again... Could you-?", she asks softly.

"Oh, of course, baby".

>

Less than ten minutes later, she takes a deep breath and steps up from the car, unfolding her long limbs as demurely as possible, straightening up slowly.

The stylist had surprised her earlier with a couple of stellar new options. It had been a difficult choice, but she's confident she made the right one.

A Balmain long sleeved mini dress; embellished all over with white pearls, silver sequins and beading. It's heavy but exquisite, and the most expensive thing she's ever worn, by a mile. With her simple silver Aquazurra heeled sandals, she cuts a lean, willowy and statuesque figure, popping against the rich red of the carpet.

When her senses adjust to the fans cheering and photographers' shouts and flashes, she's taken aback when she recognises the track playing as they announce her name over the sound system. 

Clocking the lyrics of the opening verse, she beams even brighter. How has he possibly done that?

As she's ushered over, she bubbles a disbelieving laugh as she catches the conspiratorial smile as Reese pulls her in for a hug. "Relax... You've got this! He loves you and he's proud of you and he wishes he was holding your hand right now. But mine will have to do for a bit, okay?".

Reese squeezes her hand and pulls her back in front of the photographers to pose together, swaying ever so gently to the irresistible melody of The Rolling Stone's She's a Rainbow.

He tends to sing her his favourite line or two at the end of every one of his pep talks. As he had on the phone just a few minutes before.

She can't resist humming along now. "She's like a rainbow / Coming, colours in the air / Oh, everywhere / She comes in colours".

It does the job, and then some. When she separates from Reese, she takes a deep breath and follows the publicist with Charles hovering a few paces behind. Admittedly, she's feeling slightly like she's having an out of body experience, and totally abuzz with nervous energy, but confident enough. She hopes.

>

It all passes in a bit of a blur. Fans, autographs, selfies, photographers, interviews, camera crews, questions. So many questions.

The journalist from GMA evidently hadn't done his homework and is taken aback that, with her cut glass accent and pale blonde hair, she is actually the red haired, SoCal drawling Daisy from the trailer and the posters.

"Yes, I promise, I'm me!", she chuckles awkwardly.

"So you're not a California girl? Not even a little bit?"

"No, just here for work occasionally", she shrugs.

"So you're totally English? That accent was so good though!".

"I am! Well, I'm half Swedish actually - which explains the hair for you, I guess - but I grew up in south west London... I'm shooting something at the moment with a crazy mix of accents, so it's nice to get to be me for a bit, actually".

Moving slowly down the press line, CNBC were a little more cerebral in their line of questioning.

"I was drawn to Daisy's spirit, absolutely!", Eloise grins. "She's a total spitfire, but that's married with this real need to be accepted and respected... She's wildly imperfect and troubled, but something of an enigma. That's always going to be fascinating, and was so much fun to explore".

MTV, predictably, were all about the music. How long did they rehearse for to find their sound? How did she find shooting the performance scenes in front of real audiences? What was it like working with Stevie? Did her musician friends offer her lots of advice...? Does she have plans to release music of her own one day? She easily dodges their weak attempt to probe about Harry.

But E!News are the first to question their relationship outright. They'd seen Ben and James collar her with hugs between interviews as they passed behind her on the red carpet. "So for a newbie you have some very famous friends... Who's here to support you tonight, and what advice have they given you?".

"I'm so lucky; they've all given me loads of advice! But yeah, there's a few here tonight... And we have the London premiere in a few days too".

They push for names, but she's coy. "You'll have to wait and see, but I'm sure you'll be keeping an eye out".

"Go on, drop some names!".

She swerves again, shaking her head. "I'm not actually sure who's here for this or just heading to the after party, to be honest, it's all been a bit of a blur".

"Come on, you know we're talking about Harry...".

Oh, ding ding! She shakes her head primly; this journalist has no idea just how stubborn she can be.

"Okay, okay... Well can you tell us what advice all those good friends gave you?".

"Loads actually, but the common thread was definitely about separating work and personal life and keeping things private". Her tone may be sweet, but her quick smirk makes it clear she's no pushover.

"Sounds like great advice to me!", Reese quips as she steps up and throws an arm around her waist as Stevie does the same on her other side.

Relieved, she bends down to pull them both into a joint hug, before they continue a couple of interviews together. But, with their over the top gushing, she can't help but feel like she'd rather go head to head with Mr. E!News again.

As they move down the line, she can see her other cast mates chatting amongst themselves across the carpet and feels a bit awkward, like she's hogging the limelight a bit. It all cuts a little too close to their characters in the plot.

They eventually break free of the press and reconvene to line up in front of the bank of photographers. Eloise tries to resist the pull to end up bang in the middle, but Reese is deceptively strong.

>

Blinking rapidly, they stumble through the doors into the cinema foyer a good while later, to hoots and cheers from their gathered colleagues, friends and family.

Harry had snuck in from the back with Anne and Gemma and loitered in a far corner, watching the live feeds from outside on the screens around the room. He couldn't take his eyes off her, and had barely even clocked Mer and Julia arriving. They didn't fancy showcasing their bumps on the red carpet, but a garrulous Ben and James had appeared a while after, having run the gauntlet.

Quickly recognising James' cackling laugh, Eloise excuses herself from meeting the author's husband and practically skips over to their noisy corner.

Smoothly snagging a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, she cheekily points him in their direction.

Locking eyes on Harry, she can't help but drink in the sight of him; looking divine in exquisitely tailored Gucci ink blue trousers, and a cream silk shirt, buttoned low with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tattoos on show.

They all whistle and gush as she struts over, flashing her long legs in her high heels and even higher hemline. Blushing, she tries to shush them, but, when that fails, resorts to necking the champagne and folding into their arms. She gets to Harry last but doesn't intend to let go.

Pulling her into a tight hug, he croons "She comes in colours...", low in her ear and she melts all over again.

"I cannot believe you did that! You can't know how badly I needed that, needed a bit of you", she gazes at him.

"God, what a pair, just look at you two!", Mer gushes.

They look up and there's another bank of photographers pointed at them; this time, just their beaming nearest and dearest.

Ben steps forward and hands his phone to her, sassing that he's her messenger boy again. She rolls her eyes and gestures to her lack of pockets or handbag, before chatting quickly with her parents on FaceTime.

Charles takes the hint and fishes her phone from inside his suit jacket and hands it wordlessly to Harry, who slips it into the pocket of his trousers for safe keeping.

When she's given a five minute warning for the Q&A ahead of the viewing, a slightly sheepish Suki approaches Harry, thanking him and apologising again for what happened at the end of August at Shoreditch House.

He waves it off, just relieved they were all okay, but admits it was a tough lesson for them to learn the hard way.

Eloise does a double take at the glass of champagne in her hand, which she'd taken, pre-poured, off a waiter's tray, and pops it on the side, feeling a little queasy at the memory alone.

>

Ushered to her seat after the Q&A with the cinema lights down very low, she grins to see the previously empty seat next to hers is now occupied. He must have snuck in just after the lights first went down.

With a squeeze of his hand, she takes a deep breath and tries to relax.

But, just a moment later, she tenses again as the electric guitar riff of the Fox fanfare booms from the Dolby speakers. It sets the hairs on the back of her neck on end. Well, that or the sudden, belated realisation they're all about to see it for the first time. Oh, God...

She only starts to loosen her tight hold on his hand when there are positive murmurings and some whoops and cheers after the first performance scene. They like it. They really like it.

Some of the drugs scenes and that bloody shot of her nipples through the crochet top are agonising to watch back, but, otherwise, whilst it's admittedly weird to see herself on the big screen, she barely recognises herself in Daisy. She can't help but recall how difficult some days were during shooting, with that infernal hunger and aching, raspy throat. In hindsight, maybe Daisy did break her a little bit?

But, sitting here now on the other side of all that... Wow, they've made something to be really proud of.

She smiles even brighter, clocking Harry's expression out of the corner of her eye; starring at the screen, absolutely transfixed, fully at his most moony.

>

A few hours later, back at the Mondrian hotel's Skybar, they're gathered in a messy circle for another toast.

Eloise, Harry, Anne, Gemma, Ben, James, Jeffrey and Glenne. An apologetic Rosie and Jason had just arrived, late after her shoot over-ran. Mer and Julia had, understandably, both now at seven months pregnant, peeled off after the screening.

Then another toast, this time with Suki and Sam and his wife.

And another, with Eloise and The Six. Then seven, as Reese gatecrashes; almost certainly the drunkest.

James is possibly a close second. There's a near miss as he playfully tries to hurl Eloise into the pool. Her thump and resounding "This is bloody borrowed Balmain!", sets off garrulous laughter around the pool deck.

But it's all becoming a bit of a blur, to be honest.

Chatter, gushing, blushing, hugs, photos, posing, toasts, drinks, drinks, drinks.

>

They're papped as a giggling gaggle when they all burst out the Mondrian's sleek front door, hotly debating where to find the best burger and fries nearby. Eloise had only eaten a couple of canapés since their late breakfast and is in desperate need of something to soak up some of that booze.

In a flurry of blinding flashes, the assembled paps holler and scream her and Harry's names, shoving and pushing each other in a bid to get the best shot of the two of them in the same frame.

Dancing and weaving and stumbling a bit, they don't make it easy, more intent on arguing the ins and outs of In-N-Out over Shake Shack. Unsurprisingly, their Rainbow gets her way.

>

Sated, soon enough, they're all warbling She's a Rainbow as they pile into taxis to head home.

Eloise and Harry contentedly share a chocolate milkshake and kisses in the back seat. Even after everything, it's the simple things, you know?


	6. Part F

24th October 2017

The London premiere two days later is pretty much a repeat performance of LA, but with three notable exceptions.

The pre-party.

It started early. Really early.

Harry and Eloise startle awake on Tuesday morning to the gate buzzer blaring repeatedly. The obnoxious pattern forms a tune, but she can't quite recognise it in her bleary state.

Assuming it must be fans, as they squabble over who should check it out, he pulls her back down and hurls her across the bed before grabbing his boxers and jogging downstairs.

He returns a few minutes later with one eye narrowed at her, rubbing the other with his palm. Jumping wordlessly back into bed, he's followed almost immediately by a very enthusiastic Lucas.

Launching himself clear over Harry, he lands in the middle of the bed and wraps his huge arms around her, jostling her roughly in his excitement. "It's my little sister, the film star!".

Bouncing around at his movement, she yelps, grabbing at the duvet. "Whoa! It's your little sister, very naked...", she warns.

"Agh!", he scrambles up, scowling at Harry.

"What on earth are you doing here so early?". Reaching to check her phone on her nightstand she curses. "Oh, my God, Lulu! It's not even 8am", she grumbles.

"I got the 6.15am train from Bath", he shrugs, nosing around the dressing table.

"But why?", she asks, exasperated.

"I didn't want to miss any of the fun. I've got two days off training and I'm not wasting them!".

"Yeah, but the fun doesn't start till later though... I don't have to start getting ready till lunchtime".

"Oh, is someone over-tired?", he teases.

"Yes! That's literally the point! Jet lag's a bitch and we're going back to sleep for another couple of hours", she says, decisively.

"Oh, come on! Ollie will be here soon and Dad said they'll be here by mid-morning".

"I love that you're all excited, but couldn't you have let me know? Go and nap on the sofa, or something. Or make yourself useful and sort brunch, if you must".

"But-".

"Good night, Lucas", she says pointedly, making Harry snigger. "And keep quiet, won't you? Don't wake up our guests either", she calls as he turns to flounce off.

With a huff, he scoops a discarded t-shirt off the floor and hurls it over his shoulder to land perfectly in her face.

>

Ollie has always been a tiny bit more forward-thinking than Lucas, so his tactic in heading upstairs with two steaming mugs of coffee proved far more successful in luring Eloise out of bed just an hour or so later.

After a late breakfast and time catching up with her family, she'd headed back upstairs for Lou to do her hair and make-up. Needing to stay in London for Lux's schooling, she can't join Harry for the rest of the tour, so it feels a bit like the end of an era.

As her hair sets in glossy sleek waves, to cascade in a rippling waterfall down her back, they settle on a relatively pared back make-up look; natural and dewy with a slightly smudgy kohl, to make her blue eyes pop, and a nude sheen on her lips.

After a while, Gemma joins them in the master bathroom to hang out as she does her own make-up. And Harry dips in and out too, getting ready himself.

They can hear the others getting increasingly rowdy downstairs. "Babe?", Eloise snags Harry's hand before he heads back down, "Can you please try not to let Lucas drink too much? He's like an unguided missile as it is".

>

A while later, rounding the corner from the stairs, Eloise pads into the kitchen in her bare feet.

It's Mitch's jaw dropping that alerts the others and they all quickly spin around to look, mouths falling agape.

With her head cast down, juggling her heels and rifling through a little black boxy clutch bag, she's in a golden Gucci one shoulder bodice of draped and ruffled silk, with black high-waisted knickers under a black semi sheer fine tulle skirt.

"Lolly, seriously, have you forgotten the rest of your skirt upstairs?", Crispin, her dad, asks from his perch against the fridge, one eyebrow raised in confusion.

"Ha! We can all totally see your granny pants, Lol!", Lucas sniggers.

"Oh, shut it... You look ace, like a proper star", Ollie grins.

"Wow, wow, wow! Is this the one Harry Lambert had biked over yesterday?", Harry asks, taking her hand to twirl her around. She nods. "So beautiful, baby... My gold dust woman!", he says wistfully, pulling her in with a palm to her waist to drop a kiss to her temple.

From the marble island, littered with bottles and cans, Lou waggles the open bottle of champagne at her.

"Go on then, just to take the edge off", she grins, perching on a bar stool and crossing her long legs to strap on her black patent YSL Tribute platform sandals.

To avoid towering over everyone, and knowing she'll be on her feet until the early hours, she'd gone for the version with the slightly less of a skyscraper heel. They're actually genuinely pretty comfortable; if a little slippy. Testing them out on the tiled kitchen floor, she thinks twice and bends to take them off again.

"Let me...", her mum, Elin, offers with an outstretched hand, proceeding to score the soles with a kitchen knife.

"I haven't seen you two mess up a new pair of shoes like that for a while", Crispin grins, alluding to ballet days of old. "Although, I dare say they're a bit more pricey", he adds with a wince.

As they all prepare to leave, Eloise realises she'll need a coat for later to ward off the damp cold of an autumnal London evening. Harry jogs upstairs and returns with a black cashmere Crombie of his, draping it neatly over her shoulders.

The pair of them get into a sleek black Mercedes saloon. Gemma, Lou, Jeff, Mitch and Sarah pile into the matching Mercedes van. And Ollie follows, driving Lucas and their parents in his Range Rover.

With Harry sat alongside her - quietly humming She's a Rainbow, rubbing his thumb over the back of their joined hands in his lap - she doesn't feel that usual flood of nerves.

They part with a quick kiss before she swaps cars outside the Langham Hotel. "You've got this, baby! I'll see you there", he grins.

>

Having then FaceTimed him briefly, just for old time's sake and to say thank you, Eloise steps out of the car, on to the red carpet at Leicester Square, to rapturous applause.

The press mostly rehash similar interview questions to those in LA, with just a few variations on that general theme.

"Are you guys performing tonight?", one interviewer asks.

"No, sorry! We've all been spread out for a few months now and only met back up a couple of days ago. We'd be so out of practice and wouldn't want to disappoint Stevie anyway!".

One asks if she has any plans to release her own music, especially given she has so many friends in the industry.

"I'm not sure how much of a voice I have left after Daisy, to be honest", she laughs. "But, no, definitely not! And I'm not nearly talented enough or brave enough for that anyway. The thought of writing about my feelings and belting them out every night is terrifying to me".

So the second notable difference from LA? Her red carpet photo bombers.

The fans at the barricades lining the carpet go wild, making the interviewers and their crews look around in fevered anticipation.

They're drummed quickly into a frenzy when Harry soon saunters past, flanked by Jeff and Lou.

He'd been adamant he didn't want to miss this. Even if ostensibly just as a friend and not on her arm, if his being there does anything to help allay her nerves and let her enjoy this huge moment as much as possible, then he's more than willing to face a few cameras.

Spotting Eloise wrapping up an interview, he changes tack and prowls towards her. Distracting her entirely, he wraps his arms around her and smacks a big kiss to the side of her head. "Congratulations, you! This is amazing!", he drawls with a big dimpled grin, before swanning straight off. It's only jovial and matey, but it means a lot.

The crowd goes wild, and the interviewer cannot believe his luck to have caught that, and her reaction, on camera.

Sneaking a look back over his shoulder, he smiles cheekily to see her turned back to journalist, notably flustered but with a beaming smile lighting up her features.

He turns back around and moves to greet Stevie quickly too, a few places further up the press line. But as he steps out of her hug, the final journalist in the press rank literally grabs hold of him before he can pass.

"Harry! We didn't think we'd see you here today", she trills.

He shrugs, giving her a charming smile as he rubs the back of his neck. "I couldn't miss it! The movie looks amazing! I'm really excited to see it".

"You're close with Eloise, right? It's nice of you to support her on her big night...", she probes carefully.

"Yeah, we're really close. She's one my very best friends, so I'm definitely feeling proud and very excited for her".

It's a big step; the first time he's acknowledged even a friendship publicly. Casting a coy look over his shoulder back up the press line, he lights up seeing her throw her head back in laughter at something.

Stepping pointedly away from the journalist before she can ask anything else, he heads instead to the barricades to take photos and sign autographs for some screaming fans. Naively, he hopes it might lessen their frenzied shouts of his name, drawing attention from her and the film.

But, that's drowned out as another roar of excitement floods down the red carpet.

Adele arrives and rushes straight to Eloise, pulling her into a tight hug and bigging her up. Then dashing to her family to say a quick hello, after a final quick wave to fans calling her name, she ducks straight into the cinema lobby. Like Harry, she's keen to show her support and boost her confidence, but is desperate not to steal any of her thunder.

>

Finishing up the last of her interviews, Eloise is pulled into the cast photo call, with Reese, Stevie and the director too.

Then, as she faces the bank of photographers alone, they shout and holler for Harry to join her.

Clocking the commotion from where he's still attending to fans, he quickly wraps up and ducks straight inside.

Disappointed, the photographers then call for some photos of her with her parents and brothers.

When Eloise finally makes it inside, a proud Harry pulls her straight into a tight hug; calming and soothing, for him too. He found it surprisingly difficult to not touch her out there.

>

As the closing credits start rolling, Eloise dreads what happens next.

Surrounded by her family, she'd been squirming as Daisy's behaviour gets progressively worse, from kisses to being draped all over men, to all of the many, many drugs.

She's taken aback when applause and cheers break out across the cinema as the lights come up, and has to do a double-take when she catches her Dad swipe a tear from his eye and clear his throat.

"Oh, God!", she panics. "Is this about the nipples, or the drugs, or the-?".

"Lolly...", he cuts her off, jumping up and pulling her to her feet and into his arms. "That was incredible! I'm speechless... I'm so, so proud of you", he beams his identical smile back at her and tugs Elin in too.

Her brothers take the bait. "But Lolly...", Ollie starts. "About the nipples and sex...", Lucas adds. They promptly laugh and pull her into a joint smothering hug of their own.

>

The third difference from LA? The after party.

It's somehow become the hot ticket in town on this blustery Tuesday night.

As they spill between the bar and the outdoor terrace of The Chiltern Firehouse, bouncers and opportunistic paps wage war as camera flashes intermittently pop in the dark over the gate at the far side of the courtyard.

Despite the cold, from her perch on the back of one of the striped sofas, huddled close to the outdoor fireplace, Eloise happily lets others come to her.

There's a not so orderly queue.

Adele only stayed for one drink, needing to get home to Angelo. Her parents also leave before things gets too raucous.

Liam makes an appearance. As does Phoebe.

Nick, Alexa and Cara hover nearby, smoking in the back corner.

Roman Kemp, Jack Whitehall, and his girlfriend Gemma Chan, laugh noisily on the opposite side of the fireplace.

Liv Tyler and Dave Gardner were there for dinner, but join the party too. He's thrilled to meet her brothers at last.

Harry flits around chatting to everyone, but, inevitably, returns back to her side, proud as punch. Gemma, Lou, Jeff, Mitch and Sarah loiter close by, ribbing just how smitten and smiley he is.

He tries to keep an eye on Lucas and Ollie for her too, but he has his work cut out. They're positively on one. Both recently single again, they're like kids in a proverbial candy shop, and, evidently, outrageous flirts.

Eloise has to step in and tell Lucas in no uncertain terms to back off and not encourage a very tipsy Reese.

Wincing and cringing every so often at his and Ollie's antics, Eloise does so much talking she doesn't drink too much, but has a wonderful evening.

It's busy and buzzing. Surrounded by friends and family at one of her very favourite restaurants, it's the perfect celebration for what they've achieved with the film, and a fitting last hurrah for Daisy. It's been a wild journey, but Eloise is more than ready to put her to bed.

As if reading her mind, not for the first time, Harry tugs her back down to perch on his lap. Granted some privacy by the sheer number of bodies standing around them, huddling around the warmth of the fire, they share a quiet moment amidst the madness as drunken chatter and garrulous laughter sings out around them.

Dropping a hand to either side of her jaw, he gazes intently and beams up at her, shaking his head as if in disbelief. "You are incredible... And I cannot believe I get to call you mine. I'm just so proud of you, baby. I love you, so, so much".

>  
>

3rd December 2017

Settling back in the bath and cradling her cup of coffee, Eloise takes stock.

She'd officially wrapped Killing Eve last night, and whilst they finish off a few other scenes this morning, after a magical lie-in, she's taking her time getting ready before heading out to their wrap lunch and drinks.

Her passion project; her baby; her first screenplay and big starring TV role. It's all in the can. She can't quite believe it.

It's been a labour of love since putting pen to paper for that very first sentence three years ago now, but she's so excited to soon see the spoils of all their hard work.

She can only hope it has some of the success of Daisy Jones & The Six. Expectations had been high after the initial box office figures, but it had gone on to surpass them all. Even the soundtrack had done pretty well in the charts. She'd been seconded to do an extra circuit of press - some radio, TV and talk shows, squeezed in around her shoot schedule. There had been some background discussions about canvassing award juries, but, for her sanity, she'd been trying to keep her nose out of all that.

Having been so busy, she can't help but reflect as she distractedly shifts bubbles around the oversized tub.

It had been quite the family themed Autumn.

She's feeling cosseted and coddled and closer to them all than ever.

From Anne's birthday, to her LA and London premieres, both their families and all their closest friends reconvened again less than a week later for Harry's triumphant London shows at the end of October. Lucas had been so taken with his blue and gold Gucci floral suit, Harry genuinely looked into getting one made for him for Christmas. His take on gag gifts is evidently in a whole different league.

As her Killing Eve schedule slowly wound down, Eloise had been able to snatch some precious time with her family and even caught a couple of her brothers' games whilst Harry was flitting to and fro across the continent for the European leg of the tour.

But she realises quite how much Harry has become her family, her home, day to day.

He'd gone out of his way to try to sync their schedules, returning home to Hampstead between gigs if it meant he'd get to spend even just one night with her.

After he wrapped the European leg of the tour in Milan, he headed straight to Paris, where she'd been filming. They had a blissful long weekend rolling around the sheets at the opulent Hotel Bristol, only braving the chilly November weather to dip in and out of art galleries and cute patisseries and bistros. Bliss.

After their closeness, she's missed him terribly since saying goodbye almost two weeks ago, when he left for a three week stint in Asia and Australia.

She had been more worried than she let on, about the Victoria's Secret show.

But unnecessarily so. He'd practically holed himself up in his dressing room, and FaceTimed her as much as possible.

There were cameras everywhere, filming everything, all day, and he knew they and the media would pounce on him if he so much as blinked at an inopportune moment. He'd never maintained such intentional and direct eye contact, ever, let alone with fifty or so publicity-hungry and nearly-naked models. He deserves a medal. He's never felt more on edge.

But soundcheck went brilliantly, and he headed out on stage full of beans, determined to prove his place as the top-billed artist that evening. What could he say, he was feeling himself.

Eloise had streamed it live on her laptop and couldn't believe just how incredible he looked and sounded. Unable to decide whether she preferred the pale mint Givenchy or the black Gucci suit with the pink silk shirt, she's looking forward to being able to check them out in person for herself.

She was surprised how quickly he called her after getting off stage, and then again, having left the afterparty as soon as he could after just schmoozing the execs and producers a bit.

It's telling that the media couldn't publish a single story with any questionable photos or any rumours of any inappropriate behaviour. Instead, they unashamedly dug out old paparazzi shots of her frowning or looking pissed off, in a weak attempt to pad their predictable hollow stories about how she, his still only-rumoured girlfriend, must have been fraught with worry back home whilst he was surrounded by glamorous, half naked exes.

Two mere flings - not proper exes, he'd protested - Georgia and Nadine. He insisted the Sara rumour was only ever just that. But there were some fairly persistent rumours about him and Taylor Hill once upon a time too. Admittedly not there in Shanghai, but factoring in Cara and Kendall, that takes his Victoria's Secret model tally to what, five? At least? Yikes. That story writes itself, to be fair.

Well, they weren't wrong. But, like she said initially, it wasn't him she was worried about. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't been fervently scrolling through Instagram, checking tags and stories. She's not proud, but she's only human.

The following week, she'd had a heads up from Jeffrey that Harry hadn't received a Grammy nomination.

Knowing he'd be devastated, she became increasingly worried when she couldn't get hold of him for a whole day. So when she found herself awake at 3am, and still saw no notifications from him, she'd chanced to dial again.

He'd answered after just a couple of rings; voice deep and raspy and hesitant, with a touch of panic mixed into his tone as he fumbled the phone in his haste. "Baby, is everything okay? It must be the middle of the night there?".

She hadn't meant to worry him, but couldn't deny she was happy to have finally tracked him down.

"Oh, sorry. I'm okay, just couldn't sleep. I was worried when I couldn't get you yesterday, baby... How are you feeling?", she'd asked.

He'd been silent for a beat before letting out a low, long sigh. Hearing the hitch in his breath, she couldn't help but jump straight in. "It's bullshit! They're so up their own arses... You hit number one all over the place, have been critically acclaimed and sold out all your tour dates in seconds... They snubbed One Direction too, remember?".

"No, I know, I get it... I'm disappointed, of course, but I get it. I'll just have to make a better album... I wasn't brave enough, played it too safe".

Fairly unfamiliar with rejection of any kind, he was feeling understandably blue. She stayed on the phone with him until after the sun had risen, when he needed to head to soundcheck for his Melbourne show.

He's been sounding brighter again since, but she can't wait until she can lay eyes on him for herself.

>

After a long lunch and longer drinks at The Ned in the City, Eloise braves a lengthy round of goodbyes and jumps in an Uber, north to Shoreditch.

Bustling through the door of the little old fashioned pub, tucked down a cobbled backstreet, a tipsy Gemma hollers her name, and Eloise feels every head in the place turn her way.

She makes even more of a fuss trying to get out of her spot at the middle of the far side of a long table. "Oh, El, I'm so glad you made it!", she beams. "You didn't leave your party too early on my account, did you?", she chatters. "Everyone, listen up! This is Eloise, she is wonderful, and will be my sister one day, so be nice, but play it cool and don't make a fuss. Oh, and don't post anything with her in, alright?".

Eloise blushes and tries shushing her. It's just after 9pm and from the flush to her cheeks, she suspects Gemma's been fielding generous birthday drinks for at least the last few hours.

After saying hello to everyone around the table and getting hugs from Michal and Chloe, Gemma's best friend from Holmes Chapel, who she's met a few times already, Eloise checks if anyone else needs anything from the bar, then drags Gemma over to try to get some water down her.

She can't help but feel a bit overdressed in her statement skirt and thigh high suede boots, especially next to Gemma's cool but definitely casual black denim dungaree dress.

As she ferries over a tray of Café Patron shots, figuring it wouldn't hurt to catch-up, Eloise squeezes into a seat opposite Michal and Chloe, and promptly realises she's already forgotten everyone else's name. Oops.

Trying desperately to recall the name of the guy next to her (Peter? Pete? Phil? Oh, balls...), the guy opposite him snaps his fingers at her. "Oh, shit! You're from that 70s film, aren't you? I see your photo on my bus stop every morning!", he chuckles.

As Gemma admonishes him for the very opposite of playing it cool, Eloise winces at the realisation he's almost certainly thinking about her nipples right now.

Divvying up the shots without delay, she knocks back two herself.

>

A while later, Eloise, Gemma, Michal and Chloe are squeezed into a smaller booth in the back corner and huddle around her phone screen. "Remember, not a word...", she warns again.

When Harry answers Eloise's FaceTime call, Gemma squeals and cackles, thwarting their attempts to be stealthy.

"Oh, my God, were you hoping this was a dirty call? Sorry to disappoint!", she laughs.

Shirtless and lounging against a headboard, he rolls his eyes and dips his phone down to show he's at least wearing jeans. "Well, hi there, Slurry McSlurryson! Happy Birthday again, you piss head. Is she being a dick, babe? Just bail if she is... Oh, shit, you're on the sauce too, aren't you?", he chuckles before looking at them wistfully. "Fuck, I really miss you all.... Sorry I'm not there", he says a bit glumly.

It's 10am in Auckland and he needs to check out shortly to head to the airport for an eleven hour flight to his final destination to this leg of the tour; Tokyo. It's one of his very favourite cities, so whilst he's delighted to get to spend a week there before heading on to LA, where he'll see Eloise, he's already counting down the days.

Little does he know that she'll be heading home shortly to finish packing, ready for her long flight tomorrow.

Making the most of Gemma and Chloe's distraction, she flips her phone off video mode and settles into the corner, chatting with him softly, intent on giving enough comfort to tide him over, just for another day or so.


	7. Part G

5th December 2017

Eloise lands at Haneda airport, in Tokyo, just after lunchtime on Tuesday.

A little bamboozled by the brightly lit signage in a dizzying mix of scripts, is she still a bit hungover from Gem's birthday or just jet lagged again?

She hasn't been to Tokyo since her gap year, six years ago, and is quickly reminded of that slightly unsettling feeling of being blonde, tall, white and female here. It feels like every eye in the busy - but disconcertingly quiet and polite - arrivals hall is on her.

Eventually, she locks gazes with the set she's been after. A charming older man with her name emblazoned on a white board. Well, almost; 'Mrs. E. Styles'. Jeff's a fucker.

It's bright and sunny but chillingly cold when she steps out behind him, heading towards the car park as he wrangles her drunkenly rolling large suitcase alongside him.

Taken by the beauty of Japan, and eternally fascinated with its culture, she gapes out of the window for the entirety of the thirty five minute journey into the city centre.

When the driver lets her know they're five minutes away, she puts in a call to Jeff. Apparently Harry has just headed down to the spa, so the coast will be clear.

>

Entering the lobby of the luxe Aman hotel, with her ears still popping from the rapid ascent to the thirty third floor, she bustles out of the lift and immediately feels the need to temper her excited energy to avoid disrupting the hallowed, opulent calm.

All clean lines, soaring ceilings and muted palettes, with everything at a hushed volume, it's like a blissful sanctuary, floating serenely in the clouds above the high octane energy of the streets below.

A quick glance reveals Jeff, on the phone, pacing in front of a tall window near the bar. Catching the eye of the host behind the check-in desk, she points to him and changes tack, smiling as he gestures with a courteous bow.

Giving him some space to wrap up his call, she looks around and admires the beautiful lobby, smart clientele and attentive staff. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she catches sight of a stretch of the inviting, shimmering blue of the pool peeking through the far wall of the lobby, into the adjacent spa, and leaps behind a pillar, ducking out of sight.

"What's up?", Jeff chuckles, casting an eye over his shoulder before rolling his eyes and wrapping a hand around her arm to pull her out from her hiding place and into a tight hug. "Your secret's safe, don't fret! He'll be in the steam room, I'd wager... He said his throat was feeling a bit froggy after the flight", he explains as they head back to the lifts.

>

After successfully sneaking up to Harry's suite, she quickly strips off.

It's heavenly, but she manages to pull herself from the blissful waterfall shower with its pulsing jets. She has something even more tempting on her mind.

With her little black bikini covered by a hotel robe, she skips down to the spa, brimming with mischief and excitement.

Checking out the spacious gym and sleek reformer pilates and yoga studios along the way, her step falters as soon as she steps into the spa.

Its sleek lines and astonishing views are entirely undisturbed. It appears completely empty. Hmm?

Scuffing slightly on the polished slate flooring as she pads around in a pair of hotel slippers, she finally locates the steam room, tucked around a corner at the back. Hanging up her robe, she takes a deep breath and slowly opens the door, immediately getting a face full of escaping, fragrant steam. Sweaty balls, it's hot in here.

Silently tip toeing inside, blinking against the heavy atmosphere in the darkened interior, she can just about make out a figure sitting very still in the far corner, and, undetected, manages to edge close enough to make out his familiar ink.

She'd feel bad for interrupting his meditating, but she's missed him too damn much.

Moving silently to avoid being heard over the faint hissing of the steam, she pivots and eases carefully down beside him; then leans over slightly, so that her hair just brushes against his upper arm.

Not daring to look at him, she bites her lip to stifle her simmering laughter as she feels him bristle and let out a haughty little huff of annoyance.

Brushing her arm lightly against his this time, she can't help but jump at the sudden low and flat timbre of his voice. "Err, excuse me...", he shuffles further away into the corner.

After a beat, she whispers lowly, "Ooh, ten out of ten, Styles", with a gleeful smirk spreading slowly over her amused features.

His gangly limbs flail in surprise as he finally snaps his eyes open and catches his first glimpse of her. Blinking against the steam, he gasps in disbelief, "No fucking way!".

Surging closer, back along the bench, he pulls her towards him and swallows her ready laughter with his kiss.

Hauling her on to his lap to get closer, things soon get even steamier.

"This would be deeply disrespectful to the Japanese...", he warns lowly, as her lips drop down his neck, mirroring the hand trailing down his abs.

Suddenly hearing voices just outside the door, she leaps from his lap and tugs her bikini top back into place over her heaving chest. Catching him throw a bunched towel over his lap, she tries to avoid sniggering, but internalising it only makes it worse. As her shoulders start jigging in silent laughter, he elbows her gently in the ribs and shushes her, but he knows a hopeless lost cause when he sees one.

With a soft "Kon'nichiwa" to the two bemused Japanese businessmen loitering just inside the door, he pulls her to her feet as she promptly loses it, breaking into hushed giggles as he pushes her backwards out of the steam room. He calls out a weak "Arigato" in apology over his shoulder.

Their skin is flushed pink and his hair extra curly and fluffy from the humidity, but they grin at each other like fools for a couple of seconds, before he wraps her in a tight hug on the otherwise empty pool deck.

Melting against him, she presses her hips back into his. "Oh, hello...!", she trills. Taking pity, she pulls him towards the pool steps to cool down.

After the hot steam room, the water feels heavenly; it's almost silky, and seems buoyant somehow.

"Is it salty?", she asks quietly, stepping in a circle in the waist-deep water. Sinking down, she dips her tongue tentatively into the water to check before arching her back to wet her hair again.

"Shit, you're cute", he whispers lowly. Dropping a palm to her hip, he tugs her forward and the motion lifts her legs to wrap loosely around his hips.

As he wades them deeper, towards the floor to ceiling wall of glass at the far end, she arches her back again to float along the surface of the water, her golden hair streaming out around her shoulders.

"Ooh, this feels amazing! It's so relaxing in here, practically magical".

"Well, that might justify the spa price list...", he scoffs.

Arching an eyebrow at him, she unwraps her legs and sculls backwards before neatly pulling her legs under her to kick off against the wall. But as she glides smoothly past, he grabs an ankle. "Oh, no, no, no, no!", he tuts, tugging her back. "You are not escaping me already, not after just five minutes!".

Caging her against the infinity edge, right by the floor to ceiling glass windows, he gasps as he looks up, then spins her, wordlessly. Big snowflakes float mesmerisingly past them on their way down to earth.

Resting her chin atop her arms, crossed over the edge of the pool, she sighs contentedly when he moulds himself to her back and hooks his own chin over her shoulder. They stare, transfixed, at the serene vista before them.

A shiver runs through her body. It must be the discordant effect of seeing snow whilst being enveloped in his tight hold in the temperate water. That, or, it could be the effect of him gently rubbing his semi over the cleft of her arse, as his hand drops from where it's wrapped around her waist, lower and lower.

>

A while later, when the two men emerge from the steam room and enter the pool, one addresses them. "Utsukushī keshiki", he gestures with his chin towards the windows.

Harry can only smile blankly, having exhausted the extent of his Japanese in the steam room earlier. Begrudgingly stepping back from Eloise, he shifts alongside her, with his back facing the wall.

Reaching a hand to rake her wet hair over her shoulder, he gazes at her openly. His smile pulls into a smirk when he notices her bowed head and slow, shaky breaths. Looking towards the men across the pool, he drops a hand surreptitiously to the front of her bikini bottoms. "Fuck, you all worked up there, baby?", he teases, twitching at her resounding whimper.

She reaches to grip at his wrist, noncommittal in either pushing him away or keeping his fingers just, right, there.

>

None too surreptitiously, they soon slip from the pool and quickly don their robes and slippers again to head straight for the lift.

When the doors slide open to reveal a few more properly attired guests, he holds her hand tighter and drops his head in a respectful bow, but doesn't raise it again once they step inside. They're both notably taller than anyone else in the lift, so what he thinks he's achieving, she's not quite sure.

But, back in his suite, he decides to up the ante on their usual shower shenanigans.

She tries to pounce on him, but he holds back. "We've got all night, baby...", he coos gently, laving kisses to her neck. "I went to sleep last night aching at the thought of having you in that tub...", he whispers lowly, nudging her head towards the deep plunge pool tub stationed in the corner of the room, right by the floor to ceiling glass windows. "It'll take a while to fill up, but I'll make it well worth the wait, I promise".

>

Eloise is sure he must be able to hear her racing pulse over the rush of the water; the sexy anticipation only rising with the water level.

As Tokyo approaches the end of its golden hour, Harry busies himself setting the mood. Dimming the lights and setting candles aflame, he selects a soft mellow and soulful playlist - a little Donny Hathaway, for starters - then rummages through the desk for the room service menu.

Whilst surreptitiously tugging off her bikini under her robe, she stands in the centre of the room and keeps a close eye as he pootles about. She loves watching him focused on a task at hand - absorbed, intense, adorable - and can only grin and shake her head when he greets the concierge charmingly to request something special.

"...Ooh, a champagne afternoon tea? That sounds spot on!", he trills down the phone. "How soon could it be here? It's kind of an emergency...", he pushes his luck. "Oh, really? Straight up? Well, that would be just perfect for us, but would they have to wait terribly long for another? ...Oh, well that's a relief! In that case, yes please! Suite 3709, yes. Thank you".

"Oh, no, Mr. Styles...!", she gasps, stepping hesitantly closer. "What seems to be the problem, sir? Tell me all about your afternoon tea emergency...", she jests with a playful frown. "Is it about the eclair or couple of macarons, perhaps? That won't do, let me check...". She promptly snorts a laugh and latches on to his neck.

"You're ridiculous!", his throaty chuckle tapers into a moan as her wandering hand slips inside his trunks.

>

They're interrupted by a knock on the door.

It's like nothing they've ever seen before. Eclairs and macarons wouldn't begin to do this towering display of little patisserie marvels justice. It's exquisite.

Once the concierge leaves, she slips into the water as Harry's distracted, shifting the cart over to the edge of the bath, within reach.

Looking up, he catches her in profile; arching back to dip her hair in the water does things to her tits that has all the blood in his body surging in one direction only.

After picking his jaw up off the floor, he shrugs unceremoniously out of his robe and trunks and leaps in after her, hissing at the heat.

But she only has eyes for the bitesize treasures, moaning sinfully around a mouthful of glazed strawberry, creme Anglaise, dark chocolate mouse and buttery pastry. Holy shit, that's good.

"Umm, excuse me...", he sasses, trying to get her attention.

"What happened to 'we have all night'?", she asks, still draped over the side of the tub and trying to make her next selection.

"C'mon, baby...", he whines, "My eclair needs some attention, it's getting jealous".

"Oh, God... Too far, H!", she cringes a laugh and promptly shoves a little tartlet in his mouth to shut him up. "The green-eyed monster striking over pastry? That's a new low, even for you!".

"Ha!", he barks in a self-satisfied laugh around his mouthful, "The one-eyed monster, more like...".

Looking up from unwrapping the foil and wire from the bottle of Bollinger, she laughs in disbelief.

He's ridiculous; utterly irresistible in a silly-sexy-needy mood like this, and he knows it.

Sidling closer, she reaches under the water with her other hand and glides a fingertip over his slit before wrapping her hand around his shaft, encouraged by his hiss of pleasure.

Surreptitiously, she lifts the finger of her other hand and lets the champagne cork pop across the room towards the bed. Eyeing him suggestively, she trills "Oops!", as a stream of white bubbles flows over her hand and into the water, then promptly creases into laughter. Two can play the silly-sexy game.

"That's it!", he howls in mock affront, trying to haul her on to his lap. But she holds firm agains the lip of the tub, reaching for the champagne flutes.

When she twists to offer him one, it's her turn to gasp.

Out the wall of windows in front of the bath, bursts of brilliant orange blend into sprays of pink. From their vantage point at the edge of the business district, the sunset reflects in a dazzling array of tonal hues, bouncing off the mirrored facades of all the towering skyscrapers nearby.

They stare transfixed; but, once again, hands aren't quite so docile. Beneath the rippling surface, they massage and stroke as the anticipation quietly builds again, after all their messing around.

>

When the colours start to blend into darker ombre, as dusk begins to fall in a steely, purplish haze, Eloise twists to look up at Harry from where she sits, tucked under his arm and pressed close against his side.

"Do you think this is privacy glass?", she asks softly, reaching for the empty glass dangling from his fingers.

"Yeah, I reckon. Why?", he bites his lip as her naked back is revealed as she reaches to stow their glasses safely on the tray before retreating back to the opposite side of the tub.

"Because I need to you fuck me right up against this window".

"Fucking hell, you really do make all my dreams come true...", he surges towards her.

Wasting no time, he tugs her back on to his lap, splaying his thighs wide and tilting her forward. "Is this okay? In the water?", he asks lowly, running a knuckle down her back and probing cheekily at her hole before stroking through her folds, making her gasp and squirm. After his teasing for the last hour now, she's more than ready; slick and wanting.

"Yes! Yes please, H, I need...", she tapers into a satisfied sigh when he shifts their hips, only to pull her back down again at the perfect angle, sheathing him effortlessly.

Despite the position, with the buoyancy of the water, it's him that takes control. With his hands on her hips, guiding her up and down, she does manage a slow grind against him each time she bottoms out.

Groaning at the pressure coiling within, she throws her head back against his broad shoulder and tries to drop kisses wherever she can manage. But, frustrated at the angle when she can't reach his lips, she disconnects with a whimper of complaint, and unwraps his fingers from her hip to twist and straddle his lap instead.

Sitting side-on in the tub, they both still get the view of the waning sunset; but, with their intense gazes locked, neither can quite look away from the other as they chase their own ends.

The last of the light dancing over their features is bright enough anyway.

>

As they emerge, bonelessly, from the tub, shivering in the relative chill of the suite, they wrap each other back in their robes.

Smirking as he walks her backwards, Harry reaches a hand from rubbing up and down her arms, to hook her discarded pink hoodie off the bed. Squinting at it in the low and flickering candlelight, he can't help but smirk. "Tell me you didn't wear this?".

"Yeah, why? It's my new favourite! So snuggly and the perfect size...", she tapers off as she clocks his raised eyebrow. "What? I had my coat on, then a blanket on the plane, it wasn't too obvious", she frowns defensively.

Stepping closer, he chuckles lowly, "Hmm, who knew I might like seeing you branded with my name even more than I like seeing you wear my actual clothes?". Smirking, he rakes a finger over the 'Harry' embroidered on the pastel pink tour merch hoodie she holds innocently up to her chest. She really has no idea what she does to him.

"Ugh, don't be such a caveman!", she scoffs with a roll her eyes. "Why not just paint 'Harry was here' across my chest?".

Stepping even closer, he drops his lips to her ear. "Hmm, think I've already done that once before, actually...", his eyes glaze over, recalling that night after the Dunkirk premiere.

"Don't be crass!", she gasps as he tosses her backwards on to the bed.

"Would you ever?", he kneels and starts crawling towards her.

"Ever what?", she shrinks back, pulling herself to sit against the headboard.

"Get my name on you...?", he cages her in his arms, eyeing her intently.

"A tattoo, you mean?", she asks, unconsciously fingering those littering his left wrist.

"They are master craftsmen out here...", he keeps talking, but she cuts in, having been thinking it through more than he realises.

"I wouldn't be against it...", she muses, looking up at him through her lashes and biting her lower lip to contain her smirk. "I think I'd get off on it a bit actually... A little brand".

It's his turn to gape, "Whoa! Really?".

She chuckles, "...Sounds like you might too?".

"Hmm...", he mulls, twisting to sit alongside her and lifting a hand to tug at the neckline of her robe to trail a finger over her chest. "I don't know about marring this pretty skin, though? Maybe just an initial, not my full name?", he tilts his head in consideration.

"Whilst you do have a fantastic surname, it's pretty presumptive that you think I'd tattoo it permanently before you gave it to me officially...?".

His mouth gapes again and eyes widen as a slight blush flushes his cheeks.

Silently, smirkily, he shuffles back off the bed and returns with the champagne bottle and their glasses. Appraising her silently as he saunters back, their eyebrows do the talking.

Settling back alongside her after handing over a topped up glass, he chuckles to himself. "Wow, okay, noted...!".

He loves it when she manages to leave him speechless. Almost as much as she does.

Nudging him with her elbow, she takes pity. "But, I don't know, maybe just a little something that reminds me of you... For now?". She snuggles closer and entwines their legs.

"Yeah?", he can't help but grin down at her and drop a kiss to the side of her head. "What kind of thing?".

She hums with a shrug, "I'll have to have a think...". Twisting their joined free hands, she presses a sweet kiss against his fingers.

>

They startle apart when her phone rings where it's plugged into the charger on his side of the bed.

Reaching over, he tugs it free and hands it to her, clocking the FaceTime call from Ben as he does.

Quickly tugging at the neckline of her robe, she settles against Harry's shoulder and swipes to answer.

"Well, hello from Tokyo!", she sings out brightly.

But he shushes her quickly.

Confused, they belatedly clock his teary eyes and beaming smile just as he pans his phone down to reveal a bundle of pink in his arms, where he's perched on the side of a bed alongside a sleepy, glowing Mer.

They both gasp.

"Ruby...", Ben coos gently, "Meet your Aunty Lolly and Uncle Harry! They're both pretty special".

He looks back up and grins to see them gaping at each other in shock, before craning back to her phone screen and talking over each other in hushed, excited tones.

"Guys, no way! When? Oh, she's perfect...! ".

"Congratulations! She's so beautiful! Oh, my God, you're parents!".

Hushing them with a quiet laugh, he quickly gives them her vitals. Day, date and time of birth. Weight and length. Ten fingers and toes.

Neither even knew Mer had gone into labour, but, to be fair, they hadn't checked their phones since before she arrived at the hotel. They'd been giving them some space anyway. Eloise had backed off after receiving a hormonal tongue lashing from Mer for accidentally disturbing an attempted nap; and Harry had been sick of Ben's whining about being on tenterhooks around her.

But, baby Ruby, just a couple of hours old, is absolutely perfect and more than worth the wait. They stare and grin and coo over every tiny little move she makes as Ben and Mer fill them in on their eventful day.

>

Feeling gooey and already besotted with her, they change and venture downstairs for a celebratory dinner.

It's just the two of them, but they're shown to a discrete private dining room with magnificent views looking out towards the Imperial Palace Gardens and Mount Fuji beyond.

The Omakase menu at Musashi, the hotel's luxurious sushi restaurant, is eye-wateringly expensive, but mouth-wateringly delicious. The chef presents them with course after course of the finest seasonal ingredients.

Wetting Ruby's head, they get a little silly drunk on an expensive bottle of saké.

Stumbling and giggling back towards the lift, they bump into Jeff, Tom and the band in the Lounge bar.

After a round of hugs and Eloise proudly showing off photos of her new niece, none of them need much convincing to continue toasting the safe arrival of the newest addition to their little motley crew.

>  
>

11th December 2017

After a blissful couple of days downtime, the team boarded a bullet train to head two and half hours west to Osaka for the first show, then back east the next morning to Chiba, on the other side of Tokyo, for the last show of the year.

Harry had returned to his dressing room with Adam and Mitch after dinner, only to pause in the doorway, surprised to find Eloise and Sarah, heads bent close, creased into hysterical laughter.

Noticing them, Eloise tugged her shirt back down and whirled around guiltily, still stifling her laughter.

"What?", he puzzled, popping a hip against the dressing table, with eyes narrowed in suspicion as they tried to compose themselves. "You wouldn't have shown her, not before me?", he gaped.

"No...? Shown her what, anyway?", Eloise teased, hip checking him as she tried to make a break for the door, still sniggering.

But he was too quick. Hooking one arm around her waist, he pulled her into him and, on a hunch, ran a finger ever so gently up the left hand side of her rib cage.

Her yelp and shove told him all he needed to know. "You went for the ribs? Ouch! My brave baby...".

Confused as she and Sarah burst into laughter again, he frowned again, but left them to it.

All would quite literally soon be revealed anyway; he'd get her naked soon enough, he'd make sure of it.

She wouldn't tell him what she'd chosen, and until then, he didn't even know where she'd had it inked.

Patience isn't one of his virtues, but he couldn't deny enjoying the anticipation.

>

Later, he proved he'd taken her pep talk over the Grammy disappointment to heart. Intent on proving his worth and showcasing his growth, he made the most of the respectful Japanese audience, and ventured out on to a raised balcony, alone, to perform a cover of Girl Crush a cappella, without even a microphone.

Even though he was struggling a little with his voice after thirty nine shows, it was absolutely incredible and a really special moment to behold. Eloise stood in stunned awe at the side of the stage; her heart overflowing with love for him, never having felt prouder.

It's a perfect note - literally - on which to sign off. With that, they were both officially done for the year. And what a year it's been.

>

After long hugs goodbye when everyone else flew home the next morning, Harry and Eloise stayed on for another couple of days' holiday in Tokyo, just the two of them.

Venturing out over the weekend, with Harry pointing out his favourite sights, she'd quickly fallen for the city all over again. Or maybe that was just for her enthusiastic tour guide?

But, mostly, they'd spent their precious free time cooing over Ruby on FaceTime, feasting on incredible sushi, and hanging out in that magical spa.

>

After a quick shower before they need to head for the airport, Eloise bites the bullet and asks Harry to help change her dressing, finally revealing the ink she'd managed to keep under wraps since that private session with his favourite local tattoo artist five days before.

He tugs her into brighter light, and leans closer, squinting in confusion. "What the fuck is that?", he gapes up at her.

"Hey!", she shoves at his shoulder, wrapping an arm around her torso to trace it gently. "I'll have you know this is something deeply symbolic and meaningful to me...", she admonishes. Peeking a glance, she smirks at his furrowed brow. "Oh, okay, okay! So it symbolises the fine line between pleasure, and the worst fucking pain imaginable...". She almost manages to keep a straight face.

"Oh, my God! You bailed?", he takes another look at her tattoo and promptly roars with laughter.

"...I did", she grimaces sheepishly. "I cried too! How on earth you've had all yours done, I can't even imagine... You must be a closet masochist?".

Still chuckling, he takes another look. It's literally just a vertical, straight, thin line; less than an inch long, spanning two ribs, hidden neatly under her upper arm.

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry for laughing, but that is fucking classic! It might be my favourite tattoo, ever", he gently strokes it.

"I'll fix it one day", she promises. "But I'm going to need to hold your hand".

"I quite like it actually! There's something about a 'fine line'...", he waggles a finger then tugs at his lip.

Uh oh, he has his thinking face on.

>

After a confusing number of hours and time zones, they finally arrived back home in the Hollywood Hills. Somehow, it's still Monday the eleventh of December.

They never have the luxury of time, let alone time to themselves.

Whiling away the afternoon, collapsed in a jet lagged heap on the sofa, they shamelessly watching cheesy festive movies and nap in a tangle of limbs.

Eventually receiving the nod from Ben after her check-up, they jump up and excitedly head over to meet little Ruby and promptly fall even more in love.

With Ruby; not least upon learning her middle name is borrowed from her aunt.

And with Ben and Mer. It's not just the baby; there are tears all round when they sweetly ask Harry to be her Godfather.

And with each other; fawning as each coos over Ruby in their arms.

>  
>

13th December 2017

Planning on a day of Christmas shopping to get organised before heading back to the UK, they wake up and head straight downstairs for some much-needed coffee.

Finding their phones on the marble island - hastily discarded and forgotten there last night - they're shocked to find them flooded with notifications, missed calls, messages and alerts.

"Holy shit...!", she whispers slowly, whipping her head up to see him still frowning at his phone in confusion.

"What the...?", he gapes, looking up at her as an impossibly bright, fully-dimpled, mega-watt smile begins to break across his face. "No fucking way!".

He throws his phone down with a clatter, swoops her up into his arms and doesn't let go.

The nominations are evidently in... And holy shit, indeed.

It looks like it won't be such a quiet wind-down to Christmas, after all.

>

It proves an equally dramatic first day back at work for Ben, when James gets the phone call that Jules has gone into labour.

He only needs to make one of his own to draft in a surprise, replacement host at the 11th hour.

Harry's been floating on cloud nine all day, but proves a natural, and absolutely smashes it. James needs to watch his back.

>  
>

21st December 2017

The notion of downtime disappeared overnight. Plans and arrangements were set in motion and diaries were soon crammed with styling appointments, schmoozy meetings, and lunches with industry voters to help grease the wheels.

But, as much as possible, Harry and Eloise tried to lend helping hands to Ben and Mer, and James and Jules.

Well, they mostly ran around after Max and Carey, between snatched cuddles with the baby girls, and running errands for their tired new parents.

Keen to avoid the killer combination of tiny newborns and overbooked pre-Christmas flights, they had decided to charter a private jet together for the long flight home.

>

Eloise realises a little too late, that they may not have properly thought the prospect through.

Snuggled under a duvet in the back corner of the jet, with a napping Carey asleep in her lap, Eloise is fairly certain that the piercing wail of two newborns' echoing cries, ricocheting off the fuselage for the last ten or so hours, has successfully switched off any broody feelings.

In her, at least.

She's not sure anything could offset Harry's gooey broodiness in the presence of babies. He's such as a sap.

Grinning moonily, he slides past her legs to reclaim his seat next to her, by the window.

Angling his body towards hers, he lifts a hand to trail a finger gently up and down her left ribcage.

She knows it's killing him not to know. And he's been pretty patient, to be fair.

Swatting at his tickling fingers, she pulls his arm across her lap. Tugging his sleeve up, she draws a pattern with the tip of her index finger. Repeating it over and over, and tracing the memorised few musical notes as precisely as possible, she wonders if he'll get it.

Thinking he's nodded off at the soothing motion, she's about to give up, when he takes her by surprise. Leaning closer, he sings "She's like a rainbow" lowly in her ear.

Seeing her quick smile, he beams back. "Oh, I fucking love it, baby... That's perfect!".

"I'll be brave enough one day, I promise".

"Well then I'll be there to hold your hand, baby... Always".

Lifting a hand to her jaw to angle her towards him for a kiss, he suddenly rears back when a muslin lands neatly in their faces.

"Jesus, you two... Cool it, Styles! Two new additions is more than enough for now", Ben sasses, to James' delight.

Even with two newborn baby girls curled up on their chests, some things never change.

Series continues with '10 | With you'.


End file.
